Our Oblivion
by CryChick12345
Summary: Percy Jackson has never been well known, an outsider. That is until he becomes famous for one thing: dying. On the night of his seventeenth birthday, shot down during a robbery, Percy fades from existence, but he's not gone. Not until he has a chance to relive his last day and change it all. Making up for all his mistakes he starts with a boy he ignored for years: Nico di Angelo.
1. Chapter 1

**Our Oblivion**

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><p><span><strong>AN:****Hey you guys! I just wanted to thank you all for checking out my new fan fiction! I just wanted to mention that it will be a pretty short fan fiction, only lasting about fifteenth chapters, and the chapters will be shorter than usual. Anyways, I just wanted to thank you once more. It's a pleasure to have all of you reading my writing. I hope you enjoy. Have a beautiful, fabulous, amazing day, my friends! :3**

**Summary: ****Percy Jackson has never being well known, an outsider. That is until he becomes famous for one thing: dying. On the night of his seventeenth birthday, shot down during a robbery, Percy fades from existence, but he's not gone. Not until he has a chance to relive his last day and change it all. Making up for all his mistakes he starts with a boy he ignored for years: Nico di Angelo.**

**Rating: M for sexual content and strong language. **

**Pairing: Slight A****nnabeth and Percy p****airing f****or the first few chapter or two, ****but mainly Nico and Percy.**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1: Into the Void <span>  
>Percy's Point of View<br>7:34 P.M.**

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><p>If my life was a movie it would have started with this moment, the introductory showing me and me alone as I am preparing for the beginning of the end, even if I don't know that. The scene would open with one of those expansive overhead shots, catching a glimpse of the miles and miles of land expanding around me, dotted with house and streets, cars and people. You would get that glossy pattern of spattered purple and red in the bright blue sky as the world fades into the darkness of night, descending into to what would be a restless sleep for me if it ever came. Next, the shot would close up on my face, showing every crease, every inch of my sweat stained skin as I walk labored down that sidewalk, kicking chunks of asphalt and stumbling over the gapping dents in the concrete.<p>

In the movie version of my life you would get a slow camera angle of the petite and perfectly wrapped present under my left arm, slathering my side as the pink box pressed into my abdomen. The tag would hang loosely in the breeze, my name printed on the inside with that perfect, looping handwriting vivid against the crisp, white background. The bow nearly jerked of from the travel, now frail and torn, strings along the right side. The silver wrapper shines in the fading sunlight. It would all look so perfect, so beautiful, as the movie begins.

But this isn't a movie. It's just life. A life that's anything, but perfect. A life that definitely deserves to be a movie. It's my life, in case you are wondering.

My name is Percy Jackson: Perseus if you want to get technical. You know, like in Greek mythology? Yeah, just like that Perseus. Born on August 18, 1997 and died on August 18, 2014- the day of my seventeenth birthday. And I was killed by the most unlikely and most unexpected person ever. I was killed by a complete stranger.

It wasn't a normal occurrence, it wasn't chance, it wasn't planned, and it wasn't accidental. It was fate. Fate that I would die that day so that I could be rewarded a new beginning. So that I could rewrite my story. But to rewrite my story I have to finish it first.

So on that August 18, that Monday evening, I walked silently to the gas station around the corner, a birthday present from my girlfriend hanging under my arm. I wasn't sure what was in it, or when I would open it, but I intended to find out as soon as I got home. As soon as I got home from the gas station to where my mother was waiting with a birthday cake and presents. That is if my step-father hadn't engulfed the whole thing by that point. Gabe was never one to be courteous or anything less than his regular jackass self and cake was his favorite food. Well, anything that's edible is his favorite food, but how could he deny a birthday cake sitting there with no one to eat it. Patience is not his forte.

Hiking the package up in my arms, holding it tightly, I stopped short out in front of the store. Several cars littered the parking lot, however there wasn't a single person wandering throughout the shelves from what I can see through the window. As best as I could muster, I figured that the cars were either parking places for people in other buildings or the restaurant next door, or it was the workers at the gas station's vehicles. This place was never very busy.

The chime of the gas station door boomed loudly thorough my mind as I clamber through the door, stepping inside slowly.

"Hello! Welcome to Quick Mart! The chubby red head behind the counter responded automatically, voice coming out robotic and stale, as she stated the greeting with false cheerfulness. The beautiful smile upon her lips was obviously painted on. All of it was for show.

A quick wave was my only response as I continued to the shelves, looking up and down before grabbing a bag of a Skittles. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, but I did have a few things in mind that I might have needed. Taking my time I continued to stroll up and down, gather a steady supply of items: A Coke, a pack of mints, a lighter (my mom always manages to lose the lighter right before we light candles on the birthday cake), and a pack of pokey sticks. I don't know when this convenience store started stocking the Japanese treats, but I bought a pack anyways. Why not?

Walking up to the counter I sit all the items down and watched as the girl gave a quaint smile.

"Hello!" She said sweetly, exposing the slight glimpse of perfect white teeth. She had a very pretty smile. Shaking my head I grinned back.

"Hey."

"Are you having a nice evening?" She continued to inquire as she swiped the lighter along the counter. I looked back at her before responding, propping the package on the counter before leaning against it.

"Alright I guess. How about you?"

"Long hours here with no business what so ever. Just trying to make it through the day I guess," She sighed before shaking her head and glancing upwards, "Who's the package for? Heading towards a birthday party? Sorry if I am being nosey."

"Nah, it's alright." I assured her, "I'm not heading anywhere. Just going home. The package is actually mine. Today's my birthday. Turning seventeen."

"Oh…Happy birthday!" She gave me another smile. I couldn't believe how good her smile was.

"Thanks." I claimed as I took out my wallet, watching and preparing as the girl began to swipe the last item. Then, it all shattered.

The first boy came bounding in quickly, holding up a gun as he bombarded through the door. Initially there was a scream and I'm not sure whether or not it came from me or the cashier. Either way it was there. The boy was wearing a simple black jacket and black pants, the mask covering his face and a hat over top of his hair. Gloves coupled his hands and molded around the gun.

The boy slammed into me full force, knocking me to the ground and hitting the package from the counter. At first I was completely dazed, terrified of what was to come.

The other boy came in next, this one holding a pistol as he lingered over top of me. It was strange. I didn't have fear initially; however, I should have been afraid.

Throwing a bag at the cashier the bigger boy hissed, "Put the money in the bag!"

"If you move I'll fucking blow your brains out." The smaller of the two claimed, chokingly and shockingly calm despite his current predicament.

From my place on the floor I looked up at the two boys, one tall and thick chested and the other being short and lanky. A deep exhale of breath came from my lips, leaving my body in a gasp. Within seconds the shorter of the two turned the gun on me. The barrel lined up with my chest, ready to strike my heart if I dared move.

"Don't do anything!" The boy hissed out as I listened to his words, analyzed his voice and tone. He was young, definitely inexperienced, but deadly serious. And with the bullets to match.

Glancing at the girl behind the cash register, her hands blatantly shaking, I watched as she shovel the money and change from the box into a bag. It wasn't much. Not at all, but I prayed it would make due. It would have to.

With a heavy sigh the tallest boy stabbed the gun towards the girl, listening as she hissed out a faint scream.

"Hurry the fuck up!" He inquired furiously, swatting the butt of the pistol against the counter centimeters from the girl's hand. There was a moment of silence between the swing and contact as the girl screamed- a bloody, pained scream that spiraled from her throat as the back side of the gun clipped her thumb, smashing it against counter. It was as though the next moments happened in slow motion. The younger of the pair barreled around, looking frazzled and visible shaken in appearance, as I jumped up, gathering up my strength to overtake the smaller. As I prepared to be brave for once in my life. But I didn't expect it. The other's sped. Bodies swirled as hands grappled and a shot rang out. Four hands on the gun, three shocked looks- the cashier, me, and the gun man- two yelps of fear, and one bullet. One bullet buried deep into Percy Jackson's chest, my chest, as blood began to bubble.

Hands tangled as my arms tried to grasp any form of salvation, grabbing the other's mask in resolution, ripping it upwards and off his head as I tumbled backwards against a shelf of two liter soda bottles. More screams. Hushed curses. The sound of caffeine and pop bubbling up in a mixture of gooey liquid and blood as the bottles toppled over and spewed, taking the entire shelf with them. The world swirled.

I, lying on my back abused and bleeding, gazed into the dark eyes of my attacker. The boy stared unfazed in a mask of pale white misunderstanding. It wasn't until he began to shake his head that I tried to form a coherent syllable, "Y-you m-other 'ucker…."

The world toppled as the other boy attempted to respond, looking back at his partner in crime to find a solution. I curled upon my side, the staggering pain crippling me from the waist down. I couldn't feel anything beyond my chest. I could comprehend anything other than the steady pool of blood encasing my form like a badge of courage. A last reminder that I tried to be brave. And then I died. Right then, right there, Percy Jackson faded away, unfocused and cringing in pain as the world rolled away into the dark salvation of oblivion.

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><p>Now I'm gone.<p>

I don't know where I am, what I'm doing, or what's going to happen. It's like I'm lost, but found at the same time. There is no more pain. There is no more fear. There is only the overwhelming sense of serenity as I sit here, waiting. Hoping something will happen. I don't know how long I've been here, how long I've been lying here, but I don't feel like there is a sense of time anymore. And if there is it doesn't matter.

Feeling the breeze against my skin, I run a single hand back through my hair. The air has that hint of sweet and pure honey. Something that is caught between absolute perfection and the best scent in the world.

Lying on my back in the tall grass, staring up at the crystal blue sky dotted with wisps of faint white clouds, I sigh. There is no pain, but I feel where the pain should have been.

"What are you thinking about?" The question startled me out of the haze. Turning around briskly I zoned in on the woman behind me. She was absolutely dazzling. Chestnut hair was woven within a braid, strands and trestles of gold entangled within the locks. Stray hairs fell gently from the hairdo, brushing and flowing as the breeze picked up. Brilliant hazel eyes shimmered with an inhuman light as gave me a half smile, amused by my indecisive misunderstanding.

Her short white dress hung about her beautifully, rippling in the wind like oil on water. She moved like a swan, tall and beautiful within her own realm of grace as though she was dancing across the grass. She walked seamlessly in her crisp, pure high heels although it should have been impossible as the tangled, long stalks of grass grappled for her feet.

"Where am I?" I asked blatantly, almost as though I wasn't in control of my own words. Usually I wouldn't have been so up front with the topic- definitely not to someone that has so much overwhelming power.

"Where do you think you are, Percy Jackson" She asked, voice once again stringing like honey as she stepped forward, dropping down on her knees beside me in the grass. I didn't expect for her to do so, however, it didn't shock me. There was no surprise. There was no anything.

"I'm dead." I clarified, hand gently running along my chest, looking for the bullet hole, "I got shot. Right here."

"Very observant. But that's not what I asked. Where do you think you are?" The question was once again repeated with a staggering cruelty. As though she was getting impatient with my thoughtless stupidity.

"I guess this is heaven, isn't it?"

"Ha!" She cackled, eyes closing and head tilting back as she continued to laugh, "You think this is your heaven!? Humans are so thick headed! Do you really believe this is heaven? Whenever you die you don't go to someplace like this. When you die, if you deserve it, you will be given anything you desire. You will be gifted with something so beautiful, something so priceless, that you will no longer remember or want to remember your former life. This is not heaven."

"This simply a middle ground. A place where I can deliver to you a message."

"A message?" I snort, "Who are you? The mail deliverer?"

"Do not be so ignorant." She started brutally, jaw tense and teeth grinding, "I simply wanted to give you an offer, one that you will either take with joy or deny with joy."

"What is it?" I asked, my curiosity now peaked.

"Would you like to go back and do everything different? Would you like to tell your loved ones goodbye? Would you like to have one last day to redo everything?" She asked with a look of sympathy almost.

"I…," I started, my lips moving faster than my thoughts before I stopped myself, "Of course I would want to go back. I have so many people that I need to tell things. That I need to talk to. My mom, my girlfriend Annabeth, my friend from high school, Grover…everyone."

"Would you apologize to those you have wronged?"

"I haven't wronged anyo-" Once again I paused, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to tell the truth. With a sigh of resignation I realized that truth needed to be spoken.

"Nico di Angelo." I murmured.

"How have you wronged this Nico?" She retorted, looking down at me with a sense of curiosity.

"I…. He's been my neighbor ever since I was in fifth grade. I remember when he was little he would ask me to hang out with him. He always wanted to feel grown up, like he was one of me and my friends. I knew that since the beginning. I always told him to go away. Thought he was annoying. As we both got older he pretty much stopped associating with me. I was to cruel to him as we grew up. Everyone says that he barely speaks and keeps everyone at arm's length. I feel that it's my fault. I mean we were absolutely cruel. We would push him down, make him cry, laugh as he ran home upset, told how stupid he was, how idiotic. We pretty much told him to fuck off every time and after a while he just gave up. I always thought that it was my fault."

"And you want to apologize, yes?" I simply nodded my head at her question, not bothering to meet her eyes.

"Percy Jackson, you died young. You died unfairly. You died without reason. There was so much life left for you. There was so much of the world for you to see. But someone took that away from you. They stole everything from you. You were destine for greatness. And that is why you deserve another chance at life. That is why I am here."

"W-what?" I couldn't describe the clot in my throat, the restriction of my chest.

"You have three days. Your last three days to relive your life. To do it all over again, but I must warn you: You will die at the end of those three days. Your death will come. Someway, maybe not the same as before, but you will be murdered in that gas station by that same person. I hope you enjoy your last moments on earth."

She stood up without a single ounce of hesitation, still looking beautiful and strong as she left me there in the grass.

"Wait!" The words burst from my lips as her body began to etch in a blinding white light, the outline of her body blurring as I began to spout words of curiosity, "Has this ever happened before?! Where are you going?! Who are you?!"

"I am god, Percy Jackson. One of your gods. Call me Hera." She stated simply, voice strong and powerful as the entire world exploded into a blinding white light.

My mind shattered at that moment, everything going black as memories and reality swept over me, splitting the world into jagged pieces as though I was staring through a kaleidoscope.

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><p><strong>August 16, 2014 <strong>  
><strong> 1:00 A.M.<strong>

I sat up in a daze, the tangle of sheet around my waist feeling tight. Restricting.

Looking around the room I realize I am no longer in that beautiful field, no longer in that dank, dingy gas station either. Instead I'm in my small bedroom, crowded by books, selves, my desk, and everything else that is so familiar in my life. But it's all so different now.

Covered in sweat sheen, dark locks hanging thickly to my forehead, I watch the clock on my bedside table strike one .a.m. It's a blatant reminder that what happened to me was real. It was all real. Death is upon me, giving me a ticking timer of only three days. Seventy two hours to fix everything I have wronged. And this time I'm not afraid.

I don't feel fear of what is going to happen at the end of those three days, but just being back in my home clarifies what I will miss the most. I'll miss my family. My mother to be more exact. I'll miss my girlfriend, my best friend, the taste of a cold drink on a summer day, the clear breath after a heavy rain, and, most of all, I will miss the light. The light that is always shinning into the wee hours of the morning, coming from the house that lines up beside mine. I can see through the open window from my bed. The open window that leads to the house next door and shows into Nico di Angelo's bedroom. I can't count how many nights I have been awoken by the slamming of his bedroom door at four in the morning, his parents screaming after him, as he get home late within the night. This is one of those moments.

Across the gap between our houses I can see him through the beacon of light, through the slim frame of the window. His body is illuminated in that blinding shade as the pale boy pulls off his shirt, tossing it out of my field of vision. Even in the darkness of night and distance between us I can see the slim form of his back, the lean lines of his oh-to-small shoulders. The skinny shape of his hips and stomach as he prepares to fall to sleep for the night.

I continued to stare through the dark oblivion, watching him with great intensity, as the younger slinks forward, not bothering to glance out his windows, before snapping the curtains closed.

Turning away from the window, blocking out what I had just seen, I roll over onto my back. I can't comprehend what is happening. Why this is happening. So in my bedroom I sit, staring at the ceiling blankly and wasting time as the clock ticks away life. As I am drawn closer and closer to my death and the light goes out in the window across the gap.


	2. Chapter 2

**Our Oblivion **

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you for tuning in to another chapter of my fan fiction. Sorry that it took me so long to get this posted. I've been so busy lately. Anyway, thank you once again for reading and I hope you enjoy. See you all soon! Bye, my friends! :D <strong>

**Chapter 2: Thoughtless  
>Percy's Point Of View<br>August 16, 6:32 A.M.**

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><p>"Get the hell up." The words cut through my hazed sense of unawareness as the blanket is jerked back from my form harshly. Automatically, my body begins to crave the warmth. Throughout the night my bedroom has become cold and harsh, the chill grazing my physique and leaving goose bumps in its wake. Rolling over, the light bulb stinging my eyes, I looked up, being met with a stern gaze from my step-father.<p>

Instantly the usual come back of "screw you" boils up on my lips, although I suppress the words and swallow my pride as he continues to hover over me. Three days. Three more days. I won't waste them arguing with some creep.

"Get up. Now. Or you'll be late for school." I stiffen as Gabe turns to leave my room, slamming the pastel door behind him and leaving the foundation shaking in retort.

"Bastard." The word hangs heavily in the air as I slink up out of bed, my feet chilling as they make contact with the icy hard wood flooring. In the dim morning light I manage to stumble to my feet and pull on the crumbled pair of jeans that lay folded on my floor in a heap. Left from the previous night, I know they need to be washed, but I don't bother. Or maybe I will? Who knows? It might change a few things. Change it up a bit before I die.

The bitter, hollow sound that leaves my throat is unexpected to say the least. I have no reason to be so angered by the fact that my death is coming. I should be relieved if anything. I've thought about it before- dying- and I've come to the conclusion that the world is full of cruelty. Best to escape before it gets to you too, right? That's why there is no fear. Because death is just relief. And at least I know I'm going somewhere in the end. Whether it be heaven or hell, at least there is something there.

Looking down at my jeans, staring at the frail legs, I quickly stripped down once more to my boxers. Moment passed sluggishly as I moved towards the closet across from my bed and pulled out the best garment that I owned. The simple dark denim jeans and royal blue polo were the best I could muster in such limited time, but it would do.

Today was going to be a good day. I could feel it.

Briskly lacing up my Converse and combing fingers through my hair, I charged down stairs, entering the dingy kitchen with a light grin. My mother didn't expect it to say the least.

"Percy," She gushes, grabbing the front of my shirt between two fingers, "I was wondering when you would wear this. When did I buy this for you? Last year."

The mocking laugh echoed from her throat deeply, chiming like the sound of Christmas jingle bells. If there was one thing about my mother that was constant it was her charmed and upbeat mood. No matter how much crap we go through or how many times shit hits the fan- which is a lot- she is always grinning within her grief. It makes her stronger. I know that.

"Better late than never." I reply meekly, trying to keep the irony from my voice. I would never have the chance to do this later.

My mother gives me a light kiss on the cheek before turning back to the pan that flames on the burner. Moving around to the other side of the isle I realized exactly what the burning contents were in silver cooker. Pancakes. Blue pancakes, to be exact. A droplet of food coloring can go a long way.

"You always know what I want in the morning don't you, mom?" I couldn't conceal the smirk that curves upon my lips. She always knows.

"Of course," The sense of hidden pride claims in her voice, "You're my son. I know _you_, Percy. Better than anyone."

"Yeah." The conversation ends too quickly as Gabe enters the room, followed by the wicked scent of booze and cigarette smoke that wavers behind him. Closing my eyes, fingers pressed to my temples, the automatic headache comes. Like always. Gabe has that effect on me. I can't stand him in the slightest. Even the meekest of conversations with him makes me want to throw up black acid and jump off the house's rooftop.

Squeezing between me and the isle, jostling my shoulder and nearly knocking me over, Gabe continues his course like a tank. Struggling through the section, kissing my mother on the cheek, and opening the fridge, he takes out a can of beer and pops it open. The smell makes me sick to my stomach. I want to drop to my knees and vomit. It's absolutely and unequivocally disgusting.

"Percy?" My mother questions lightly, eyes begging for me to not make a scene, as she holds out a sleek, white porcelain plate. Her fingers curl around the edge of the dish like claws, threatening to crack the thin figure as she bites back her anger.

The problem is I don't know whether she is enraged with me or Gabe. It could go either way. She could be pissed due to the drinking in the house again or at me for the obvious distaste with my step-father. Either way it doesn't matter much. The anger is still there. The hate is still brimming in her eyes.

Turning my face downwards, cheeks heating and lips pursed, I gently took the plate from the woman's fingers before lowering it back to the counter.

"Mom," I said with a deep gulf of air. She looks at me as though she's expecting something vial to fly from my lips. Like she is expecting all hell to break lose. Even Gabe has been charmed by the low and clear importance in my voice. It's hard to peek the man's curiosity, but somehow I managed.

"Sorry, but I won't be eating breakfast this morning. I've got something I have to do. I'll see you after school, alright?"

"Oh… Okay. Have a nice day, sweetheart." She smiles slightly as the spatula in her hand lowers. It hits the pan with a cling, chiming through the room like a bell. Despite my mother's understanding Gabe somehow manages to weasel his way into our conversation and, unlike my mom, he is not as calm about it.

"Really? Your mother has been down here cooking breakfast for you and then you just up and leave?! You disrespectful little prick."

"Gabe!" My mother's voice is strong and clear despite the wavering of her hands. Fingers tremble as tempers rise.

"Sally, you know I'm right! Boy, you better learn some respect for your mother _and for me_ or…!"

Despite the threat hanging in the air, I'm already gone. Grabbing the backpack slung across the coffee table, closing the front door with a slam, I race out into the street. I can't take it. I can't take it. I can't take it! I hate him. I hate him. I don't care if I am being a little rash, running away like so, but I can't stand to be around him.

Automatically my fingers cling to my own hair, shaking harshly in the light chill of morning. The sky is dotted with shades of aqua as the air begins to shift from night to day. My ears ring. I can't take it.

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><p><strong>August 16, 2014<br>6:54 A.M.**

With my head bent low I sit on the curb outside my neighbor's house, pencil in hand as I chew lightly on the eraser. It's a bad habit, I know, but I can't stop myself. Whenever I get nervous or angry or scared even, I chew on pencils. My friends think it's gross, my mom thinks it's fine, and my girlfriend constantly tells me how many germs I can come in contact with while doing so.

So here I sit, chewing away and waiting for the door next to my own to swing open and reveal the raven hair, dark eyed, moody teenage boy that I haven't talked to in about six years. I know exactly when he leaves for school. Exactly when he comes home too, and as I wait for him to emerge I can't contain my emotions. Fingers knit within the fabric of my jeans. Eyes dart lightly from the sidewalk, to my own home, to Nico's front door.

Closing my eyes gently, searching for something calming within myself, an image comes to my mind. A image of the boy next door. Not now, but when we were younger. And now with this mental photograph locked in my frame of inner vision, I pick apart every inch of the boy. His dark eyes that shone with a devilish light. His ebony hair that collapsed over his face and eyes. The often flush of his cheeks. His olive skin, dotted with tiny freckles and usually stained with a sunburn or bruises- like most children gain from playing or time outside.

Shaking my head at the fading memory of the young boy, I sit up. And I can't believe my stupidity.

Standing a few feet away from me, walking solemnly in the other direction, Nico has his head bent and eyes closed. He seems to be blocking out everything that's going on around him.

I can't believe that I've been so engulfed in my own mind that I didn't even notice him. I didn't notice that he came out the door. That he walked right passed me. Standing up with a jolt I can't help the word that explodes from my lips.

"Nico!" I call. Automatically he recoils and, in a way, I cringe as well. The sudden harshness of his movements makes my stomach twist and guilt liters my mind. It hurts. It hurts him and his pain bounces back and strikes me tenfold.

"What?" The word comes out like a hiss. His tone is devilish. The heat seethes on his tongue, hatred burning his throat like liquid fire. Even though he doesn't voice his distaste I feel it in the air. In his demeanor. And he has every right to hate me.

His eyes glower at me as he attempts to wipe the disgust from his face. He doesn't look like the same kid who I knew a few years back. His features are so much more deadly. His eyes are so much crueler.

"Hey." My voice falters.

He pauses for a moment, face momentarily filling with anger before the flames goes out. Instead of yelling like I expect him to do he stands there, absolutely dumbfounded. His lips are pursed, eyes half lidded as he stares at me curiously. I'm probably the last person he expects to be speaking to this morning.

"Hey…..Percy, right?" He shakes his head, waiting for confirmation. Despite his attempt to act natural with the words- to let the question roll from his tongue with ease- I know that he knows my name. And he knows that I know.

Looking at him silently, all words have been lost. There is nobody else around us- just me and him and the old man across the street who insists on walking his Pug at six in the morning. The silence is consuming now.

"I've been meaning to talk to you." I finally murmur out, looking at him across the distance. He shifts from foot to food, obvious anxiety slinking through him. I don't want him to be uncomfortable around me, but to be honest; I have now lost all ability to speak. Not just from awkwardness, but from shock as well.

Nico di Angelo has grown up. A lot. Despite how he looked when we were younger- short and lanky with eyes that were too far apart and olive skin that made him look exotic- he has now grown to be quite beautiful. In fact all parts of him that use to be out of order has now fallen back into pace with the rest of him.

His skin has leveled out some, not quite olive, but not quite pale. His dark eyes are now livid- a orb of ebony, flecked with gold that shinned to the point of become amber. It's a beautiful mix.

Long strings of hair scatter over his face, bangs stretching passed his right eye and dark locks swaying about his head in a frazzled frenzy. His body is just as small and lanky as it previously has been, however, his height has sky rocketed. Although he's still shorter than me.

"About what?" Nico questioned lightly under his breath. The words were so quiet that it was nearly inaudible.

I paused. For a split second a cold sweat spread across my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps glazed across the pale flesh. Eyes stared out at me from that cute heart shaped face as Nico tilted his head to the side. With that look my mouth turned as dry as sandpaper.

"I'm sorry." I felt that my words were slightly lacking, but within this second my voice was either going to crack or go completely mute if I tried to strain for anything more.

"Why?" This took me by surprise.

"Why what?"

"Why are you apologizing now?" Nico moved his hands wickedly, agitatedly as he spoke, "Why do I deserve an apology? Why did you wait so long to tell me this? It's been six years Percy. Six years."

"I know. I'm sorry! I was…," I choked over my own words. I was stumbling. Floundering. "I was afraid that you would hate me. I know you hate me. I just want you to forgive me. I need you too. Please."

My heart ached as I waited for a response. I didn't know whether there would be anger or forgiveness waiting for me when the other found his voice. I was terrified for the results.

"I never hated you." The simple response took me back. All my breath left me as I stared at Nico, eyes widening to the size of saucers. Nico stared back, a tiny smirk playing on his lips, "I never hated you. I'm just really hurt. You were my hero when I was little. I would see you- see you playing with all the other kids, everyone cheering you on, laughing with you, high fiving you. Everyone liked you and I did too. I just wanted to be friends with you. And then you pretty much told me to go fuck myself."

Once again I gasped. I didn't expect him to be so vulgar. So upfront about it.

"It was kind of like that moment when you realize Santa Clause isn't real." Nico snorted bitterly at his own words, "It's someone you pray is real. Someone you look up to and someone that you think is so amazing. That is until you find out that none of it is real. None of it is how it seems and that's how I feel about you. You were just a myth. All of you kindness and lovingness was untrue."

"I know." Was all I could say, raising my hands in defeat, "I know."

"But I never hated you." Nico emphasized again.

"Then let's keep it that way." I said suddenly. My lips were moving faster than my mind could analyze the words, "How about you and me go get breakfast together? We still have a while before school starts. Come on. Let me start making up for everything that I've done in the past."

Nico stood rooted to his spot, fear reflecting in his eyes, however I could see him pondering my offer. The thought roared through his head.

"Okay." He stated finally, his voice soft and hazed, "But only if you pay."

* * *

><p><strong>August 16, 2014<br>7:14 A.M.**

Me and Nico sat in the grass just outside of the school grounds, a McDonald's bag sitting between us and wrappers laying stray around us. His feet were propped up against a flat rock jutting just above earth level while sipping Coke from a straw. Our time together had been overall quiet; however, we had now struck up a conversation over the book that lay perched in his lap.

"The Great Gatsby." I read lightly, taking the book from his right hand. I examined the book's cover, staring at the beautiful artwork and the overall picture.

"It's a great book. I've read it before." Nico murmured as he looks back at me. A small smile manages to curl upon his lips, exposing a tiny sliver of beautiful white teeth, "Have you ever read it?"

The question catches me off guard at first, causing me to choke on a french-fry. Looking up at him, I shake my head and listen to the wistful sigh that comes from his lips.

"Not many people have anymore. Seems that no one appreciates the classics."

"You sound like my English teacher." I justified. A hefty snort comes from the boy, one that you wouldn't expect such a small person to make. It shakes me for a moment.

"Isn't that book all romanced up and stuff? It doesn't sound like my cup of tea." I declare as I scout the back for a book description. There isn't one, but I don't have to wait long for Nico to give me a complete run down of the plot.

"That's not all it's about." He huffs with indignity, "It's about this man named Nick Carraway who moves to New York. He ends up renting a house next to this mansion owned by a mysterious millionaire named Jay Gatsby. Each night Gatsby holds these extravagant parties, but he never participates in them. He allows the entire city to come to his parties uninvited and no one has ever met him. Until Nick gets an invitation in the mail."

"Why does he get invited? What makes him so special?" I ponder out loud, not really looking for an answer.

"His cousin, that's what. See, Gatsby fell in love with Nick's cousin Daisy before leaving for war years ago and every night he looks for her at the parties in hope of finding his love again. Nick ends up setting up a meeting between Gatsby and Daisy."

"Do they end up together?"

"No," Nico says, his tone slightly crestfallen, "Daisy is actually married and rather than running away with Gatsby she stays with her cheating husband Tom."

"So in the end, not everyone is happy."

"Hardly," Nico shakes his head bitterly, "After Daisy decides she wants to stay with her husband, her and Gatsby drive home in his car. They end up hitting and killing the woman Tom was cheating on Daisy with. Daisy was the one driving, but Gatsby takes the blame for it. Myrtle, Tom's mistress, has a husband named George who concludes that the driver of the car killed her and was having an affair with his wife. At the very end of the book he finds the car in Gatsby's drive way. He then shoots Gatsby and himself, killing them both. The man Nick sets up a small funeral for his friend before moving back to the Midwest, disillusioned by what has happened and claiming that New York has made him sick."

"Seems like a sad ending." I conclude.

"It is, but isn't life kind of sad in that beautiful, tossed up way."

"I guess." I sigh before tossing the book in the air, catching it with one hand. Noticing my action, Nico quickly snatches the novel from my grip, bringing it to his chest protectively.

"Protective much?" I questioned with a lightly laugh. I didn't get a response. Instead Nico glared down at the ground, his face flushing over my comment.

"I didn't mean anything by it." I retreated.

"It's all right." Nico's once again calm demeanor returned although the flush on his face lingered. He shot me a sad smile, eyes reading nothing less than happiness, but definitely something more. There was something there, something that I couldn't place. Regret, perhaps? Burden maybe?

"My dad always says the same thing about me reading this book. He says I've read it once so why read it again? Actually tried throwing it away once. I almost had a break down." Nico commented as his eyes turned to face the ground. Without thinking he gave a deep sigh and I swear I heard his heart break.

"What did you mom think about that? I mean if my step-father tried to throw something I cared about away she would make sure there was hell to pay." I called, lying back in the grass. To be honest, my mom would have beaten the hell out of him. She wasn't afraid to. I mean she probably wasn't afraid to.

"Nico?" I questioned, looking over at him when he didn't respond. All my breath left my body in one gasp. He was crying.

Nico di Angelo was crying. I could believe it.

Silent tears filled his eyes, sliding down his face in a steady stream. And at that moment I realized something, something I had long forgotten: Maria di Angelo was dead.

It's a far off memory, one that barely makes a connecting from when I was eleven, right after Nico had left me alone. It was one of those days were the rain was falling and the air was clotted with think mist making everything seem more gloomy and dark. I was sitting at my window, wishing I could go out into the back yard or run around with friends. Instead I was stuck inside, watching as a car pulled up into my neighbor's drive way. Nico and his father, Hades, clambered out silently, the younger boy running to keep up with the older man. They both seemed to be quiet as they moved, heads bent low and body's bent forward in a hunch.

Nico had been crying then too, tears falling down his face freely as the nine year old sobbed and wailed. It was a broken sound, one that I could hear even through the thick sheet of glass.

My mother simple came up behind me, shaking her head before murmuring, "Poor thing. It must be hard losing his mother like that."

Now looking at the boy, he was crying in the same way. And once more I can't take it.

"Nico, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by i-"

"Shut up, Percy. Just shut up." Nico hissed, refusing to meet my eyes. The air seemed to drop by about twenty degrees, leaving me cold and empty.

"No, listen to me. I'm so, so, sorry. I didn't even think about it. I wasn't using my head. I didn't… I didn't…. I'm sorry."

"It's alright." He claimed, shaking his head and drying the tears with the sleeve of his black sweater, "Most people forget and it's not like I talk about it much."

"Do you need to?" Apparently, I'm completely and utter stupid. Sometimes I can't shut the hell up and right now seemed to be that exact moment. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I should have just let the conversation end there, but for some reason I can't. I've lost my ability to simply leave things alone.

Nico looked at me jaggedly, eyes tearing through me like a knife. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke, "I would like to, but I can't. No one's ever offered before."

"Well, I'm offering."

Once more, he met my gaze. Within that second a silent passing came between us and I promised I would never speak of this to anyone- a promise I made without saying a word.

"I was nine at the time. It was one of the worst days of my life." Nico murmured under his breath as he struggled to keep tears at bay.

"I knew that. Your age." I complied, kicking a rock with the end of my shoe. It only seemed fair that I give him that single piece of self-worth. At least I cared enough to know how old he was at that time. He could at least have that.

He smiled slightly at that, but as quickly as the grin sparked, it faded once more, "She was one of the most amazing people in my life. Her and my sister. I'm sure you heard about Bianca. She's the one who gave me this book. It was one of her favorites. She died a year after my mother. She drowned in the lake across town. None of us expected it. Not me or my father. It was awful. I just remember cry for hours on end. It was constantly just me sobbing around the house or my father sitting there silently. It was like the entire world was dead. I couldn't function. It wasn't really from sadness at first- it was more of a shock. For the first few weeks I couldn't feel anything. I just thought it was a bad dream. That eventually I would wake up and everything would be back to normal. That Bianca would come into my room and shake me awake for school. That she would be to help me with my algebra homework or help me make breakfast while my dad was at work."

"Finally, I realized this wasn't going away. My sister was dead. She was gone." At that point, Nico began to sniffle again, tears forming in the corner of his eyes before expanding, "It was like the entire world was broken. I still couldn't function. There was something wrong with me after that. Everything seemed a little darker. And to think that that was the second time."

"First, when my mother died, it was even worse. I died a little with her. When she left, so did I. I just couldn't live with that. I would sit there, day after day, staring at nothing but the wall and sulking. I stopped eating, stopped reading, stopped doing the things I liked, stopped…..living. It was the end of me."

For a moment, I looked at him. His face was now red, completely burned from his tears and every part of him seemed to be aching, hurting. He took a deep gasping breath before continuing, "After a while though, you get through it. You find a way to just go on. And then no one talks about it. No one tries to help you completely get over it. They just hope you keep all your emotions at bay so you don't have to deal with it. I never have. Not until now."

With his final words, he tucked his head down into his arms, closing his eyes and clinging to himself painfully. Moving closer I couldn't help my impulse to help him. To stop his pain.

"Nico," My voice is lower than I expect. "Open your eyes. Please."

For a second his dark eyes are on mine, locked within our own world between the gaze, and we are both quiet. The world is quiet. I can't feel the breath in my lungs, between my lips. For a moment it doesn't exist.

Flickers of ebony, amber, and gold shine within those orbs as tears fall silently, brokenly, achingly. I can't believe him. I can't believe myself. I can't even believe the words that have been shared. And then it comes again. A soft noise, almost a sob, but not quite. Without thinking, my hand rises, as I watch him fight the compulsion to flinch away.

It lands on his cheek, cupping the velvet flesh that is tinged with pink. He's flushed. He's hurt. He needs help. And before my mind can process what I am doing my hand drifts downwards onto his chin, thumb brushing his thick, pink lips. Then, I move to his throat. Fingers press against the heated skin on lower shoulder and neck. It feels like fire under my own hands, but I don't move my hand. In fact, I enjoy the feeling. I enjoy the way his body trembles under my light touch. At first it's nearly unnoticeable. Then, it's jagged, erratic, and out of control. Nico's crying harder.

"Nico…please don't cry." I murmur under my breath as my hand begins to lower. In a moment of begging, pleading relief, Nico clutches my hand onto his neck. His wails thin out slightly, become more airy, more…receded.

His eyes are hollow for a moment, book in his lap as I look at him with a sense of pity. Well….not pity, but sympathy. My chest feels clotted, breath harsh and uneven. It hurts to watch him now. I didn't expect all of this. All his hurt and all his pain to come roaring out in one go. He shouldn't have been acting like this, especially since we've just meet in a way (officially). With a brief look at him, I realize why.

I'm his new outlet.

Nico di Angelo has lost so much in the last few years. He was bullied, only to lose his mother shortly after and then, of all the shit to happen, he loses his sister as well. And I never fucking knew. I never bothered to look into it.

He's never had anyone to talk to and now that I'm asking for him to talk about it, it all comes out. Because he knows and I know that this might not happen to him again. He might not get another chance to relieve his pain, his anger, and most of all his fear. His fear of being alone.

"Nico, Nico…" My voice trails off as I continue to feel the pulse under my fingertips. Without an ounce of thought, the younger boy tosses my hand away from him in sudden disgust.

"I can't believe this." He mutters out between tight clenched teeth. Curling in on himself, cradling the book within his chest and arms, I watch as Nico tucks his legs to his body. He looks so small, so unequivocally young. Especially when his hand comes up and wipes away a stray tear, one sniffle bursting from his throat.

"Nico, calm down. Talk to me again. You need to finish what you started and just tell me everything. I'll listen. I understand. I know what it feels like to lose someone close to you. Trust me. They seem gone, but they're not. There is something else out there. Trust me. And one day, you'll see your mother again. Your sister, too. Even if it's a while, you have right now. Tell me. Let me help y-"

"Shut the fuck up, Jackson! I don't want to hear it! Just….shut! Up!" Nico's words are bombarding, hitting me like a punch to the chest. I lose all my breath.

Jumping up from the ground, tears dripping down his cheeks, he begins to run. Running away from me, away from everything and within that moment I realize how deep his pain truly is. So deep that he's drowning in it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Our Oblivion**

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><p><strong>AN:** Hello everyone! I'm so glad that you all have tuned into a new chapter of my fan fiction. I know it's been a while since I've updated, but with classes and dealing with a bunch of issues last week I just haven't been able to write as much as I would like. I'm heartbroken to say that my Golden Retriever named Jasper passed away last week and I've just been really upset. It's hard to lose one of your best friends, especially when that friend has been with you since you were twelve. I just miss him.

Anyways, thank you once more for reading. And happy (late) Halloween everyone! Halloween is one of my favorite holidays! I've been spending the weekend with my family and me and my boyfriend went trick or treating with my younger cousins on Friday. We were Belle and Prince Adam from Beauty and the Beast! I hope you all had a great time on Friday with all your **_spooky_** plans (I'm such a nerd! :D). Have a beautiful, wonderful, fabulous, late Halloweenishly amazing day (who says Halloween can't last for the weekend too!). See ya soon, my friends! :D

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 3: The Difference between Here and Now<span>  
>Percy's Point of View<br>August 16, 12:02 p.m.**

The rest of my day was hell. Complete and utter hell.

All I could think about was how horrible everything went with Nico this morning. Reminiscing back on those moments I can't believe how appalling I was to him. How uncompassionate I was. Somehow I managed to become the villain of today instead of the hero I wanted to be. I wanted to make him feel as though someone cares now, but my head just wasn't on straight. I have no right to try and be a counselor to him when I'm just as messed up as he is.

Leaning back in my desk, glancing over at my girlfriend Annabeth Chase, I caught a glimpse of the girl holding an orange pencil above her lips in the style of a mustache. I laughed and she did the same, but for me the sound is hollow. AP Chemistry has never been my favorite class and it's even worse when I feel like shit. All I can think about is Nico. Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico…

"Mr. Jackson, are you getting any of these notes?" Our Chemistry teacher, Mr. D, asked with a frown. The ever present frown that says 'I hate my life'. I nod absently in retort. He takes it simply, not bothering to check as he once again begins scribbling on the board.

Huffing out a sigh, I scrawl the first word on my blank paper and leave it be. There's no point in writing any of this anyways. I'll be dead in three days. Who the hell cares about fucking chemistry in the afterlife?

"Percy?" Annabeth chucks a wad of paper at the back of my head. It clips me slightly before rolling out into the aisle and landing at Mr. D's feet. He doesn't seem to notice in the least.

"What?" The words seem to startle her out of thought although she was the one who called on me. It's seems that I've just brought her back to reality.

"Are you alright? You're just staring into oblivion like you've gone stupid! Come on, Seaweed Brain! Get your head on straight!" The words pour from her lips in a torrent. I chuckle harshly under my breath at the nickname. She's been calling me Seaweed Brain for three years now- ever since we took a trip to the beach with her family during the summer a while back.

"I'm fine." I murmur, staring at her own notes absently. She hasn't really written anything either, but her lack of information is justified. Annabeth already knows all of this. Honestly, she knows everything. I can't even compete with her.

Not waiting for another reply, I turn back in my chair, slamming my notebook shut and shuffling to gather everything in my arms. The bell rings at that exact moment. I'm prone to knowing when the bell will ring, probably because I can't wait to get the hell out of here.

The entire class busts into a cluster of yelling teens and chattering girls. Footsteps echo out in the hallways and through the school as many of the seniors, sophomores, juniors, and freshmen fumble towards the cafeteria for first lunch. Running a hand through my frazzled hair I approach Annabeth who is waiting for me by the door.

"Ready to go?" She asks lightly. Her voice betrays the nervousness. I can tell that she knows something is wrong.

Taking a deep breath, grasping her hand, I pipe up, "I talked to Nico di Angelo today."

"Your neighbor?" She ponders as we trek down the hallway, voice hushed as though we were sharing secrets. I'm appreciative of her automatic attention to details. Annabeth must have a sixth sense. She already knows that this topic is something sensitive, even though I've never spoken about this to her before.

"He used to try to be friends with me when we were little. I always made fun of him. Told him he was stupid. Made him cry. And I did the same thing today although it was intentional this time. I feel like shit about it." My words are just a jumble of choppy sentences, sounding like so little but meaning so much. I can't bother to connect them, to make them into a coherent thought.

"Percy…I'm sure everything will be alright. In fact, I know they will." She subjects me to the mini pep talk briskly, sounding as though her words are racing to get a head of each other. She's in a hurry. She's waiting for something.

Immediately, I let go of her hand. She has a doctor's appointment. She's leaving before lunch. I remember that- it happened a few days before I died. Just a simple checkup.

"Oh yeah, Percy's I forgot to tell you. My step-mother is coming to pick me up for a doctor's appointment. I couldn't get anything before or after school so I have to leave like right now." Annabeth's face falls and lips lace into a frown. Her step-mother isn't her favorite person in the world so I assume that's her issue. Either that or she figures something will go wrong. I believe it's the first choice.

"It's fine." I assure, putting up my front and façade. That smile on my lips is as fake as one of those Barbie dolls that you buy in stores. I'm completely made of plastic, "I hope everything goes well."

"Aww, you're so sweet." Annabeth grips my hand for a moment giving a reassuring squeeze to get me through the day. Standing on her toes, me holding about three or four inches over her, she pecks my lips softly. There isn't really a spark like usual. For a moment, I'm flabbergasted. Every time we kiss I always feel that wave of butterflies in my stomach. I always feel the surge of love and unbelievable need, but now it gone. Maybe my mood is just throwing everything off today.

"Love you." She whispers. I don't bother to reply as she surges down the hallways and up to the office where her mother is waiting. For some reason, I'm glad she's gone.

Lunch alone is exactly what I need today.

By the time I get to the lunch room the line extends completely out and back into the hallway. There's no way I'm going to get through that dense crowd. Well, no way to get through there before the bell rings for fifth period at least. It doesn't look like there is anything good to eat anyway. Vegetable soup with half price meat, plastic vegetables, and wheat bread grilled cheese sandwiches that are burned and stale. Not to appetizing.

So instead of going through the entire line and get my fill of slop I refuse a tray. The vegetable soup made me sick the last time anyways. I don't want to be puking my guts out again like I did before. Getting half way through the line, close enough for the disgusting smell of burning plastic and over cooked meat to trickle up my nose, I simply take a detour through the cafeteria and exit from the back door of the school.

One thing this place does right: allowing the students to wander the grounds during lunch. It lets you get away. It lets you be free for a while. Of course, it's not the smartest idea. Someone could easily cut through the trees and round about back to the highway and hike up to town, even with the supervision of our three outdoor lunch monitors, but the teachers wouldn't do anything about skipping class. They don't care.

Opening the door with a single push, I am outside. It's shady, strange, mythical and mystical- light and dark at perfect balance. The smell of rain hangs in the air like a weight, holding over my head like my own personal thunderstorm. A perfectly dreary afternoon to top of my completely dreary mood. Rain clouds come to play again as I step through the back door of the school building, the first drops of a downpour leaking from the sky. Its days like this that make me feel hopeless. Its days like this when I know that things could get much worse. Its days like this that… Its days like this that I'm going to miss. I don't have very many days like this left.

Stopping short just beyond the first picnic table, a cold sweat breaks out on my skin as I see him. Nico stood at the foot of the bleachers beside the baseball field, eyes glancing up at the school building. Staring at the massive glass plates expanding across the windows and the worn rose bricks and the laughing face that peeked out of parted curtains, the lower classmen amused briefly as they made face through the shadowed window panes. He had an overall absent look on his face, as though he was deep in thought. A cigarette hung loosely between burned fingertips. Another thing the teachers don't care about. Smoking.

Just like one of those moody, emo teenagers in the movies, I thought and smiled shyly to myself. I can sense the adventure in the air, but also the danger. Nico is venomous and I know that, however, I don't mind provoking the monster. He probably hates me. He probably wants to murder me. But I don't fucking care.

"Nico!" I call briefly, watching as the boy jerks back like a dog whose been struck to many time. Like someone who is broken. His eyes flicker with that dark, stormy nervousness. His lips part as though he wants to speak, but the words are lost among the breeze. A tremble runs through his body.

"What?" He calls through the hollowing wind. That single word sounds like a sickeningly sorrowful lullaby. It's flowing, deep, and trickling. It's dark, passionate, and deadly. It's the whispering song of the lonely and broken and betrayed. It's everything that Nico di Angelo is.

Jogging up to him briskly, making sure to keep a distance however, I reply the only way I know how, "I'm so fucking sorry. About earlier, I mean. I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine." He says with a look of punishing blame. A crippling sense of hatred that I can't even begin to comprehend. But somehow I just know what's wrong with him. Why he has such a searing pain right now. It's not because I forgot about something so sensitive or that fact that I reopened the wound. Those are definitely supporters, but the main factor is that I brought him back to those days. The days when he was lonely- lonelier than anyone else in the world. It was the days when I would crucify him for wanting a friend and the days when he had nothing left for him at home. It was the days when he must have hated life so bad.

"Nico," I started, trying to calm the burning emotion in his eyes. They dimmed at least for a moment, "I know you must want to kill me right now. I know I hurt you. But there has to be something I can do to make it up to you. Absolutely anything you want and I'll do it."

Without thinking I also whisper something nearly inaudible under my breath, "By the way, you shouldn't smoke."

"You could get me the fuck out of here." Nico retorts with a snort of distaste. I can't tell if he is serious or not, "You could skip class with me. Let me out of this hell hole for a while."

Stepping closer to him, eyes being brought to the faint glimmer of his fading cigarette, I feel like I have now entered the den of the beast, "Fine, but you have to answer something: Why do you hate it here?"

"No friends, nothing interesting. I don't have anyone to talk to, I don't learn anything new. I already know everything up to senior classes. There's just nothing here for me. Besides, I could be doing something so much more interesting. I could be doing something that is actually going to contribute to my life. Not just learn the same thing over and over and over again until my brain goes numb and my sense are fried into oblivion. It's like they are trying to kill any piece of actual potential in our bodies. They're all a bunch of pricks." Nico didn't miss a beat with his response. I expected something along the lines of I hate my life or more of that emo crap, but instead he just spouted about how he actually had a dream that everyone kept drowning.

"You know what, Nico?" The boy stares at as though he is a pit-bull with a stick up his ass. He will bite me if I get to close, however, that's never stopped me before. "I think you need a hug. You really need a hug."

It's the same tactic I use with Annabeth whenever she's upset and now that I've tried it out on Nico he looks horrified. Eyes spiral with a red hot coil of anger.

"Don't. Touch. Me." He spurs through clenched teeth, slinging that smoldering cigarette around like a mad man.

Before I can stop myself I'm hugging him. My arms are intertwined around him, locking like a cobra's grip. A startled tremble ripples through Nico's form and a gentle whimper wheezes through those pale pink lips like a silent prayer. All I can think is how warm he is. Warm despite the chill that has slinked into the air. As warm as the heat from his cigarette that seeps through the fabric of my polo shirt as Nico holds it to my side limply. He feels so familiar, yet so foreign. And I can't say that that is a bad feeling.

We stand there. For a moment, for minutes, for hours- I don't know. But when we do pull apart Nico has a look of utter mystification.

"You're so frikkin' gay." He murmurs, a laugh hanging between those pursed lips. It's a surprising reaction to say the least. I didn't expect him to take my affection so well.

"That's not funny." I justify.

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

"Yeah," With a flicker of his hand he drops the cigarette from his fingers, extinguishing the burning light under his boot. Nico tucks his hands deeper into the wide pockets of the old aviator jacket hanging on his shoulders, "It is."

I simply frown at that, knowing our argument could go back and forth for hours if I would allow it. Instead, I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as I often do in anger.

"So?" Nico switches topics like we were flickering through scenes of a movie, the atmosphere changing with a split second notice, "Are we going or what?"

"Going where?"

"Going where!?" The laughter catches me off guard. Nico seems to double over on himself in a fit of giggles, "You asked me what I wanted you to do and I said you could skip school with me. So… let's go skip school. It's not a big deal. I've done it before. There's not anything that interesting to do besides side around, smoke, and grab something to eat, but it's better than here. So let's just go."

For a moment, I'm speechless. Does he honestly believe that I'll skip school with him? There is a pause of doubt as the overwhelming consequences roll over me. The repercussions would be hefty when I got home and my mother found out. And when Gabe found out… I merely shutter at the thought. However, I legitimately don't see a reason why I shouldn't. It's not like I have any time left to do stuff like this.

I won't have to face the fury of my mother and step father for too long. I won't be grounded or anything- my mom wouldn't dare, not with my birthday coming up. She would let me off the hook with ease. So, why the fuck not?!

"Fine," I said assertively. My confidence surprises me and Nico both, "Like you said, let's just go."

* * *

><p><p>

**August 16, 1:07 p.m.**

I have never skipped school before and I don't know why I proposed the idea of doing whatever, but I can say that the entire situation was riveting. Running. That's all we were doing. Running.

The air in my lungs comes out in brief puffs of air. Behind me, Nico is wheezing for breath, the air not coming to him easily. Told him smoking was a really bad idea. That jackass.

Without thinking about it, Nico grabs my sleeve and pulls me to a stop. I nearly trip over him as my feet continue to move faster than the rest of my body. For a second I am jerked out into the street, off the side walk, and drenched in rain. Immediately the cold gets to me. The slight drizzle has now formed a steady drip and the water is colder than one might expect.

Pulling me close to him, back under the awning of a local restaurant, I hear Nico sigh, but I don't get a chance to see the look of disappointment. My bangs are soaked and dripping down into my eyes like black oil. Tender fingers gently part my hair, pushing it back, and revealing the small, petite Italian in front of me.

Nico never came out and said it, but his mother was definitely Italian. I never had the honor of meeting his mother (why would I?) but I have seen his father multiple times and I can tell you directly that that man is one hundred percent American New Yorker. Either way, Nico's voice has the subtle hint of a stringy, beautiful Italian accent inside. He must have got that from her along with his darker skin tone. Well, his skin use to be dark when we were younger, but now it's that pale, creamy color. His skin color doesn't matter though, and neither does his voice, because no matter what I have the feeling Nico would be beautiful. His looks are undeniable. He's one of those tinier, curvy guys, but his rough edge and dark demeanor keeps that masculine tone.

I don't know how he keeps the girls from crawling all over him. He's absolutely amazing in every aspect of appearance. It must take a special kind of person to deal with his personality, however.

"So what do you want to do?" His voice is like nails dragging down my spine.

"Let's go do something fun!" I proposed lightheartedly, trying to brighten the mood. The look on Nico's face told me that he wasn't too optimistic about the idea. Of course, what would I expect from someone who I made cry a few hours prior? He was more likely to beat the shit out of me then join me for an evening of fun. But, then again, he had already agreed to skip class with me, so why would there be a problem with us actually doing something together?

Before I could recommend anything for us to do, Nico swiped a paper from his wallet and lingers it under my nose. Gripping the paper tenderly, trying my best to smooth out the creases from where it had been stuffed in his pocket, I read the heading with ease.

"Whoa, I haven't been to one of these since I was a kid! Did this place just open?" I asked reading the price at the bottom of the paper. Twelve fifty for each ticket, twenty three dollars for a pair.

"Yeah, it just opened up down the street. I was planning on going with… a friend of mine, but I guess we could go together. Do have any money? I got about sixteen dollars" Nico held out the crumpled bills with one hand, dragging some change from his wallet as well.

His eyes expand to the size of saucers as I close his hand back around the dollars with my own fingers. It's a got look for him- the innocent, curious, childish expression that shows just how much of a child he truly is.

"I've got it Nico. You don't have to pay for any of it. It's my treat." Tapping the back of my jeans for a reassuring outline of my wallet, I look at him with a smile.

"Really?" The look on his face is as bright as a kid on Christmas, "No one… No one really does stuff like that for me. Thanks… Percy."

The sincerity in his voice, the thankfulness in his eyes, it's such a grand sight to see. Especially when that sight and look is on Nico di Angelo. His smile is nearly captivating. After a moment, however, the spell is broken and Nico once again transforms into his grumpy, grumbling self, "Let's just go. Maybe we'll get a good spot in line. No one else will be there at this time of day. Come on."

And with that there is no more discussion and he takes my hand, dragging me up the street as the rain begins to pour.

* * *

><p>"Okay…Now I'm not so sure about this." The waver in my voice was surprising. Nico looked over at me with a slight grin nipping at his lips, eye sparkling with a sudden zeal. I couldn't form words at this point. His smile, his eyes, his laughter- It was all captivating. The airy snickers that left his lips reverberated through the entrance to the maze like tiny bells, delicate and beautiful.<p>

When I first realized that Nico wanted to go to the new Maze of Mirrors down at the amusement park across town, I was ecstatic. But now, with my heart pounding its way up my chest and into my throat, I can't help the nervousness that has engulfed me. I didn't know that we would be going through the maze separately.

According to the man who gave us the information outside the maze has an interesting feature where each person goes a separate direction through two different entrances and you see who makes it out first. Like a race. Although, I don't know how much fun a race will be when I'm running into mirrors and busting my teeth out whenever I hit the glass. I know this will end in injury. I just know it.

"Are you afraid, Percy Jackson?" The question caught me off guard, taking me aback. Nico tapped his fingertips against the glass surface cheekily, ignoring the sign taped to the corner saying do not touch the mirrors. In fact, his smile was now challenging, wanting me to succumb to his idea of a competition between us.

"Do you want to race through or something?" I shot back, matching his cocky attitude with tenfold the amount of heat and vivid passion. I don't point it out, but the boy must have a split personality. No one can change attitudes like he can.

"Try not to break anything." Nico suggested with a wave of his hand, "Let's get started, shall we?"

"I'll count. We go at three. One…two…three!" I called before bombarding through the opposite entrance across from Nico. I caught a glimpse of the other boy doing the same, swinging around the corner like a bat out of hell. My voice broke out a laugh as I raced down the corridor and pushed the black door open.

Immediately, my head was spinning. The mirrors were on all sides, showing the multiplied and magnified images of me. On all prospective I was getting a view of myself. Vivid, shadowy images that shone across the room and then expanded into three or four more.

Running a hand through my frazzled hair, my doppelgangers doing the same, I stepped forward cautiously. And ran directly into a mirror. My nose smashed against the hard surface roughly, knocking me back and off my feet. The ground met me all to quickly as my back struck the floor and my head bumped the mirror on my other side. As though on cue the lights overhead flickered a deep, velvety blue as I moaned out in pain. Before I could think about it, I called out.

"Nico! Where are you?" The words were desperate as they came from my lips suddenly. Even I hadn't counted on that. Despite my voice echoing through the lonely hall of mirrors there was no response. Instead I was met with a faint scratching sound as a generic track began to play on the speakers. The music was almost more excruciating than the fucking thought of walking always through this maze with my head spinning like so.

I wish he had never decided to come here. Nico and his bright ideas.

"Okay," I placed my hands out in front of me, searching for the smooth surface under my fingertips, "Where do I start."

Instantly the lights flicker again, bathing me in a deep ocean like green. It mellows me to some extent.

"Shit!" I curse out as my back strikes another mirror. It feels like needles against my skin. It feels so petite that I could fall through as the glass shatters into microscopic shards. Rubbing my forehead, trying to clear such thoughts and get back on track, I realize how difficult this actually is. I remember it being so much easier when I was little.

Sliding past another mirror, taking a direct path to the right, the maze suddenly becomes at least twenty times simpler. The trail goes straight forward- there is no confusion or dead ends like I expect. However, there are a few more bumps and bruises.

It took me about thirteen minutes to get through the rest of the maze. Well, the rest of the maze that I went through alone.

From where I stood further down the corridor, I could see a fork coming up. The maze ran in both directions now, not just containing me to one side. Instead of checking out both I just decided to go for the right corridor of mirrors and hope for the best. Moving further down the hallway, I once again bump a mirror, flickering around the side of it before turning briskly to the right.

I ran directly into Nico.

Despite the sudden surprise of the warm form pressing against my own, I laughed. His face was etched in a faint red as I looked down, almost as though he had been running. A slight sweat was peaked on his fair skin and a exhausted smile laced his lips.

"Enjoying your little adventure?" I questioned lightly, my hand gentle grappling for his upper arm and pulling him close. Slinking out of my grip Nico snickered again. His brown eyes were wide with excitement and wonder, looking perfectly childish. With that look, my heart swelled. Perfectly adorable. Complete little kid chic.

"I think I'm all bruised up." Nico admitted; face now shinning with a heavenly gold light as the bulbs once again swapped colors. I yearned to touch him now, wondering how someone could look so angelic. Immediately, disgust bubbled up in my chest along with that thought. How could I be thinking of him like that?

"I keep running into mirrors and falling down and hitting my head." He whined, placing a tender hand against the left side of his cheek. With a brush of his fingers he exposed the bright red skin beneath, showing off what would soon develop into a purplish, ugly blemish.

"I'm sorry. This was a bad idea. We shouldn't have tried this."

"No," Nico insisted instantly, voice hard set and demanding, "This was a great idea! I think it's kind of fun."

Grabbing my hand softly, cautiously, Nico pulled me forward. The feeling of his hand against my own, skin against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. It was one of those beautifully dramatic moments were the breath leaves you lungs all at once and for a second I couldn't function.

"I mean look at this place. It's like a wonderland." Nico spoke vividly, excitedly as he faced me, walking backwards. Before I could reply he rammed into a mirror, knocking him forward and directly into my chest. In the tight space I didn't bother to catch him, but allowed him to lean on me. For a moment, Nico had the wind knocked out of him, breath escaping his lungs all too quickly.

"You alright?" I questioned, my hand coming up and lingering on his shoulder.

"Fine…I'm fine." He replied with a wink in my direction although he looked disturbed and disoriented, "I'm so confused."

"Mirrors messing with your head?" I tap his head lightly. Swiping my hand away, now looking quite annoyed, Nico let out a hiss of aggravation.

"Let's get out of here." He demanded eyes dark and cheeks dotted with a blush.

"Alright, alright," I raised my hand in defeat. Despite the fact that Nico was suddenly a seething little ball of rage, I continued to joke with him, "You like a bottle of mood swings and bipolar disorder. It's like one moment you'll be happy and joking, but suddenly you go back into that corner like 'leave me alone or I'll stab you'."

"I'm not like that!" Nico cried, waving his hands in agitation. Suddenly, without a moment of prolonging, Nico dropped his arms to his sides and frowned before adding, "But I am hungry."

Sighing, pinching the bridge of my nose, I looked down at Nico. He was shooting me one of those bright, begging smiles. One of those were you show your teeth and try to look as innocent as possible. Another sigh.

"Alright. I'll buy you lunch. And by the way, the exit is right over there." I said pointing to the end of the hallway. A bright pink sign labeled exit shone through the mirrors. Looking down the hallways, sighing himself, Nico once again frowned.

* * *

><p><strong>August 16, 2:51 p.m.<strong>

Nico smacked the pizza between his lips, eating it briskly as though it was going out of style. I can't believe the boy's appetite. Luckily the place was a buffet or else I would have been broke by now. He had already scarfed down at least three slices of pizza and half a plate of bread sticks along with a third of a bowl of pasta and two refills of Coke.

"You're a pig." I fought back a torrent of giggles as sauce dripped down Nico's chin from his currently half eaten piece of pepperoni pizza. The boy shot me a cheesy grin (literally) and struggled to scarf down what was left of the slice. Picking up a napkin to finish off the leaking sauce, Nico scrubbed away the glob of red briskly.

"And you're an asshole." Nico murmured as he took another bite of a bread stick before dropping it to his plate. I think he needed that final bite to round off his meal. With a fulfilled sigh Nico stood up and stretched, bring his tray closer to the edge of the table as he was about to dispose of the trash.

"No. No, wait a minute. Let me get it for you." I told Nico, sliding out of the booth and taking the tray from his grip gently. For a moment, Nico lingers beside me looking thankful, but slightly bothered. I didn't know what the problem was and I'm sure he wouldn't want to tell me about it, even after all that happened today, but I immediately decided that when I got back I was going to figure out what was wrong.

Despite the thick shade of oppression that lingered around him, Nico mustered a smile, looking at me with lips laced in a smile and a blush glowering on those cute cheeks. Slipping down into the booth, allowing me to continue to the trash can, I could feel Nico's eyes on me as I walked.

It was strange to say the least. Even stranger when I began to hear the whispers from a short stubby woman in a booth across the aisle. Her words were like ice down my back.

"They are such a cute couple. Did you see the way the boy took his tray? How nice!" She murmured with a quaint smile. My heart felt like someone had placed it under a hammer, slowly chipping away piece by piece. Why would they think we were a couple? Why would she say something like that? Strangers were thinking that about us? Were they all?

"The smaller boy looks at him with a lot of adornment. You can see it in his eyes." A tall blonde in a college football hoodie whispered back, tapping her fingers 0n the table top idly.

"The one in the black sweater? He looks like a little sweetheart!" Another woman from across the table murmured as a bright smile attacked her lips. Before I could hear anymore, I reached the trash can and briskly threw the trash, leaving the trays in a deposit box on top of the square disposal.

Whirling around all too quickly I nearly tripped. Nico was directly in front of me.

"What are you doing?" A giggle bubbled passed my lips unwillingly. Nico simply smiled, tucking hands inside his jean pockets, aviator jacket hanging limply under one of his arms.

"Are you ready to go?" His voice was slightly husky, and the moment his eyes met my own I could tell something was terribly off. Something was more than wrong.

"You alright?" I couldn't help myself as my hand immediately came down, grabbing his arm attentively. He tried his best to keep up the front of a happy person, but it crumbled all too quickly. His lips tore down into a frown. Eyes drowned in sorrow suddenly.

"Nico?!" I didn't mean to sound so erratic, so out of control, but now I was worried. My hands somehow molded to his hips, bringing him closer to me in an embrace. For a moment I felt a burning heat searing through my stomach, like someone had placed a branding iron down my throat. My impulse had gotten the better of me. Whenever Annabeth is worried I have a habit of putting my hands around her waist or hips and bring her close and somehow that factor has crossed over to Nico. Before I can let go or apologize for the action, Nico has struggled his way from my arms.

"Let's just go." He labored out breathlessly. The blush that flew up on his cheeks was impossibly bright. His face was stricken with worry and concern and now confusion. Tears brimmed in the corners of his eyes, springing up impossibly quick. My heart jumped into my throat as I choked. Stepping away from me, making his way towards the exit, Nico was gone.

And the butterflies continued to well in my stomach from the embrace we shared moments prior. It's official: I'm fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Our Oblivion**

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><p><strong><span>AN: **Hey you guys! Sorry that it has taken me so long to get a new chapter up. I know it's been like a month or so, but my laptop crashed a few weeks ago and I lost everything. Stupid me didn't have my files saved on a flash drive or anything and lost all my work. :( So I had to restart this chapter and it's pretty crappy. Anyways, I just wanted to warn you that half this chapter is in Nico's POV. I know that Nico is really out of character for this fan fiction, being all sensitive and all, but I promise that he'll be more in character in the next few chapters.

I just wanted to say thank you all for reading and please leave a comment or follow this story or whatever. :D Have a wonderful day my friends.

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 4: Beneath The Skin<br>****Percy's Point of View**  
>August 16, 2:53 p.m.<p>

I frown. The cold prickles up my spine in a torrent as I stumble through the royal blue doors of A Slice of Old Italy, the pizza restaurant me and Nico had eaten at. Icy wind embraces me much like an old friend would embrace you after years apart, harshly and without relent. It somehow manages to stitch its way into my skin immediately, forming into my seams as though it was produced there. The rain has long since stopped, but the chill presses down on my chest like a hundred pound weight. Crossing my arms over my chest I jerk the hems of my polo shirt deeply, hoping to make the cloth longer to protect me from the cold. I am in the process of fixing my t-shirt when the breath clamps down in my throat.

Nico is sitting on the hard packed concrete, knees pulled to his chest and shoulders quivering shakily. His breath comes in a gasping rhythm, playing like a twisted song. I can hear his tears lost among the deep breath, however, that's not what I'm focusing on right now. All I can see is how beautiful he is. I know that sounds shallow and insensitive, but for a moment I am flabbergasted.

Nico's form is exquisite (and that's something I don't usually say). His back is arched over in a hunch and his spine protrudes slightly through the skin, showing just how delicate and superb his body is. The sweater that drapes over his body doesn't help me draw my attention back to the right subject either. With the position he is sitting in that sweater is now plastered to his stomach and back, showing off every curve of his body. Small and lithe. Petite and dainty. If he was a girl he would have every guy flocking to him. A pretty face and perfect body can go a long way. Even though his body does take a great chunk of my attention, that's not what I am captivated by. With him bunched over the back of his sweater comes up slightly and the thing linger on his lower back, off to the right side, is what my eyes are locked on. There, laced against the pale skin of his back, is a few words printed in Italian. The line of words is no wider that a pencil and the string is no longer than a match. It's microscopic even from my close view. It's something that most people wouldn't notice, even if they were looking directly at that area. It's something that most people wouldn't bother to read or ask about. Nico di Angelo has a tattoo. And the more I look, the more my heart clenches in my chest. I want to know all about him, all about his tattoo, all about his life, all about his…everything. I just want him, to be more exact.

Sliding down next to him on the concrete, feet pressing harshly onto the street curb, I let out a low wheeze. My mind quickly comes back on the correct topic, almost as though someone has flicked a switch on in my brain. I still don't know what happened inside that restaurant. I hugged him, he just about cried, and then left. I don't know why he ran away, what I did, or what's going on, but I do know that something is wrong. Cocking my head to the side I peer at him, lips pursed. Finally, I find my voice.

"Nico, what happened? What- why did you run off like that? I don't understand." I stumbled upon my words, unable to form a coherent thought. Shaking my head vivid, I turn towards the street, looking out absently. When I see it my heart stops. There is a trail of shards lining up along the street, over towards the other side. Piece of Nico's cellphone lay smashed on the concrete. Across the way his phone lies broken where it seems to have hit the rain gutter and bounced away.

"Just fucking kill me." Nico replied bluntly. His words were as jagged and icy as the rain drops that pounded against the roof of restaurant. I recoiled slightly. Immediately, my heart aches for the boy and all I want to do is calm him. Just the sight of him sitting here cry makes me want to cry myself.

"Can you please talk to me rather than your wrist?" Despite the attempt to be humorous the words I speak just make the silence thicker. Either way, no matter how awkward my joke is, Nico looks up.

"Fine, you fucking bastard!" He spits out, coming back up to his full height. Now with his back straight and arms removed from his face I can fully see how upset he is. I have to fight to keep the pit of anger in my stomach from expanding. I don't care if it's a person or an issue or whatever, but I'm going to kill someone (or something) for hurting him. I want repercussions for this- for him. My anger once again condenses itself as Nico speaks, just as much venomous and hate filled as before. "If you want me to talk to you then fine. Here you go. I'm talking. The reason that I'm so pissed is because you just ruined my life. Again! The school called my dad! He knows that I skipped and he is going to fucking kill me! He texted me! Why did you agree to cut class with me?! If you didn't say you would do anything for me then we wouldn't be here. Why do you have to insist on being my friend?! You just cause me more trouble!"

"Why did you ask to cut school with me then? You proposed the idea!" I cried out in retort, panic arching in my voice. How could he be angry at me when this was his fault? It's not like I dragged him away from the school building or anything. He didn't have to come along.

"I asked because I didn't think you would actually do it." He hissed out vividly, head coming up as he gave me the look of a monster. Lips are curled back in a snarl and his hair is spiked up like horns. Even with that hellish expression, there is so much pain. There is so many tears.

"It's not that bad. So what if you get grounded?! Your dad will be fine! " I sputter. In all honesty, I believe he is over reacting to some extent. Looking over at Nico jaggedly, ready to unleash all hell upon him for blaming me, I lose my breath. His face is a mask of serenity for a moment, eyes casted downwards and lips pursed. Overall, his crying has stopped and no more tears linger on his cheeks. I'm startled by how calm and low his voice is, no matter how powerful the words are.

"You don't know how it feels to have a dad who hates you. He's told me before how much he wishes my sister was here instead of me. Everything I do isn't as good as whatever Bianca would've done. I'm just the fucking screw up, but my sister was perfect. He may not want to admit it, but I shouldn't have been born. All I do is cause trouble. You don't know what that feels like, Percy. You don't know what it feels like to have no one on your side. It makes you hate yourself. And then here you come with all your big ideas and wide smile." His snort is heavy, weighing on me like a barbell over my chest. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, before he continues, "It makes me jealous. It makes me hate myself even more because I can't have that. I don't have anything good in my life at this point. My dad reminds me that I'm awful every day, I don't have any friends, I've never been good at anything. In all honesty, you're the best thing I've ever had. But once I go home I don't have that any more. I'm once again the fuck up. Everything kills me."

For a moment, I'm frozen. His last comment hits me like a knife through my chest. _Everything kills me._ The words keep ringing through my mind like an alarm. It's not something that I want to hear. Definitely not for him. The amount of fear that hits me is indescribable. And on a sheer whim, I grab him.

Much like the scene we had in the restaurant, I'm holding him. However, this time we are much, much closer. I'm pretty much engulfing him in a hug. It's an unbelievable sensation, just having Nico close to me. Once more, a fine shock run through my form, feeling as though I just stuck my hand in an electrical socket. It burns for a moment, but quickly melts directly into my heart causing the butterflies to swarm around. It's perfect. I can feel his heart beating against my own as our chest are forced together. I'm surprised that Nico hasn't jerked away from me yet. Instead he just sits there, completely dead to the world as I hold him on the sidewalk. And as much as he refuse to move, I refuse to let go. Not until I get a reaction from the boy. Not until he notices me.

Finally, I do get something. And it's not what I expect. I can hear the curses and violent words towards me. I can feel the hands on my shoulders shoving me away. I feel the look of disappointment and hatred coming from his eyes. But none of that happens. Rather, his arms slowly slink around my shoulders and I am drawn even closer to him. I don't know what spawned this change, but it happened. And then he broke. The tears start flowing once more as the boy buries his face into my chest, trying his best to block out the outside world. I don't even believe he realizes who he is holding on to. Who he is rocking against for support. Sobs course through his form briefly and all I can do is tangle my arms even deeper around him. I pray that he can feel the warmth of my arms around him, even though his mind is hazed- I hope he can feel me.

"Okay, so my mom was like you better get your grades up or I'm taking your car keys. It's just math. Who the fuck needs to know how to do all that shit anyways? Where the fuck are we going to use this stuff!?" A young teenage girl babbled to her friend absently as they stepped down the side walk. One of them shot a quick glance at us before jerking her head the other way, face sheepish as though she was intruding on something. The two of them continued on without another reaction.

I expected Nico to pull away then, but he still didn't. He just didn't care at this point. Tilting his head to the left as he continues to crying, his lips brush against my neck, almost like a kiss. A sensation spawns down my body, causing me to shiver once and let out a slight whimper. My fingers somehow find their way to his back, dancing up and down his spine in a small trail. I paint a pattern from his shoulder blades and down, my fingers finally resting at the small of his back. Nico gives a slight sigh after a moment, allowing all his tears to run out before just resting there on my shoulder.

He's breathless, broken, hurting and all I want to do is fix what is shattered. He needed to cry. That happens to everyone every once in a while, but now I feel that things have changed. It's all changed because I realized something: I'm falling in love with him. I mouth the words finely to myself, feeling the bitter tang at the back of my throat. Sensing the bile that rises in disgust. I've never felt that way about someone like him and in a way it's still sick to me. I'm not one to judge anyone else and I've never had a problem with homosexuality. Everyone can do their own thing, but I've never thought about myself being that way. I've never let that thought even register in my mind. And now I feel it one hundred percent.

I am falling for him.

He's simply a miss match of broken parts and hurt feelings that I have grown very fond of in these passed hours. There's a hurting child in there, an angry teen, and a beautiful soul, and now I feel as though I am falling in love with each one of them. Each part of him is perfect. I don't care if he cries and screams and curses. That just means I have so much more to help him with. All I want is him at this point.

"Percy…" I hear the whisper warm against the shell of my ear.

"Hmm?" I question contently. I can't fend off the warmth that swarms my form with each word he speaks.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I reply as he pulls away. Immediately I yearn for his touch again, but I don't voice my want. Instead I just look down at the smaller boy, a gratified smile on my face. Nico looks back with that same surreal look on his face, the one that he had given me moments ago. However, this look doesn't hold a hint of sadness which relieves me.

Touching his throat tenderly, a frown slowly forming on his lips, Nico winces slightly, "My throat hurts like fuck. Crying is a bitch."

"You want me to go buy you something to drink?" I point back to the restaurant with one hand. Nico's eyes soften a bit as I nod and stand up. Starting to the restaurant I pause briskly to add, "When we get back we are going to continue our day of fun, just so you know."

**August 16, 5:36 p.m.**

Once I get Nico up and moving we again manage to tangle our way through four streets, sit on a total of eleven benches, bump into five people (two of which were couples), waste three dollars and forty-nine cents in two different fountains, spending an hour laying in the park, and buy an unneeded umbrella from a ragged looking guy on the side of the street. Overall our day is a jumble of mixed up locations, strange purchases, bruised feelings, and uprisings. It's a beautiful mockery of friendship that I have now engrossed myself in.

Now that we are back at our first location, making a big loop and ending up at the main entrance of A Slice of Old Italy, Nico is as bubbly as a five year old on a soda pop hype. Pale cheeks are speckled with a blush as he tromps through the streets, waning off of the sidewalk, and dances with the umbrella open in hand. Well, he isn't really dancing. More like spinning every once in a while before walking once again. Either way, I find it very entrancing to watch. Especially with the now glistening sun playing against the pale flesh of his cheeks, sparkling within the strands of his hair, enhancing the beauty of his pupils when those dark eyes face the light. He makes me lose my breath. He makes my heart so confused that it jumps into my throat with excitement and fear alike.

The thoughts that he spawns in my head are dangerous to everything that I am. He makes me want to do things that I wouldn't normally do. As terrible as that sentence sounds it's completely, one hundred percent true. Over the course of our adventure together I realized a lot of things. There is so much I want to do with him. Some things are too strange and absurd for me to speak about. Other things that are too sappy for me to voice. And then there are the in-betweens.

I could see us going to the movies together, going camping together, going to the beach, the aquarium, stargazing together, build a blanket fort, going to places like Disneyland, going to the gym together, running together, watching fireworks, going to the zoo, getting into so much trouble together. I can see us splitting a milkshake, having a movie marathon, riding a Ferris wheel, going on a road trip, reading a book together, getting ice cream together. And yes, I have that with Annabeth, but I realized something else while we traveled the streets together, talking, laughing, living: Annabeth isn't Nico.

She doesn't have the same charm. Her tears hurt me, but not as bad as his. Her laughter makes my heart beat like a kick drum, but Nico's laugh cause the whole fucking orchestra to pick up. There is something about him that drives me over the deep end. It makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs. It makes me want to start my entire life all over again. I want to learn everything about him. I want to explore every inch of him. But I won't have time to scratch the surface, not unless I start digging with a fucking jack hammer. Two and a half days is too short to learn to love, but it's just enough time to fall. And I feel like I've just fallen off the ledge of the damn Grand Canyon!

Which brings me back to everything I want to do with him. Everything I know I won't have time to do. I won't get the time to share popcorn with him at the movies, sing songs with him really (and I mean really) loud, slow dance with him, take dumb pictures with him, make breakfast with him, write letters to him, go on one of those classy ass dates…..kiss in the rain, get on each other's nerves, take a nap with him, kiss underwater, or…..love him. And, I know I'm going to hate myself for this, but I really fucking want all of that.

A deep exhale comes from my throat as Nico bumps into my side, nearly knocking me off my feet. He simply gives me one of those bitter-sweet smiles (one that I have now grown use to) before looking away. On impulse I find his fingers and my hand clamps down tightly. Immediately his entire body jerks and tenses, a blush hyping up on those beautiful cheeks.

At this point I know everything is going to be alright- mostly alright anyways- and he doesn't need me to comfort him anymore. But I can't let go. My fingers are clumsily tangled around his own, something that is very out of character for me. Naturally, I am a clumsily person, however, romance is my forte (sort of). I and Annabeth have been clicked for so long that I assume I must be pretty smooth when it comes to the whole relationship thing. Dates, flowers, hand holding, hugs, movies- that's all that goes into it. The thing is though Nico and I are definitely not in a relationship (and some part of me wish that statement was untrue), but the whole idea of holding his hand or even touching him makes my stomach curl. It makes the butterflies go crazy in my chest.

And as much as the atrocious mess of our clamped fingers bothers me, I don't find the strength to let go. In fact, I don't think I want to let go. It's a subconscious thing really- the warm and heartfelt sensation of our hands together. It's a sensation that I won't register out loud.

"So," Nico took a swig from the bottle that I had gotten him at the restaurant. One hand continued to hold the plastic container, umbrella hanging slack from his belt loop, while his numb, cold fingers curl tighter around my own. The whimper that slowly exhales from my lips goes unnoticed by him, "Is our great adventure over. Or do you have more planned? I'm kind of hoping there is more to be honest. I really don't want to go home yet."

A laugh escapes those pale lips, bitter but still as soft and sweet as the tinging of bells. Just that sound makes me smile. In fact, I believe he could have brightened the world with that smile, with that laugh, if he would just let that happened. I hate it when you have someone who could be so happy and cheerful, but they just can't do it because they won't let the past go.

"You should smile more, you know that? You have great smile." The complement shocks even me. And nearly knocks the breath out of Nico.

The boy sputters for a moment, eyes wide and mouth open. The look that graces his face is strange, one that makes him look younger than he really is. Childish chic. I smile at the thought, once again being able to see that adorable little neighbor that he used to be. The little boy who would throw snowballs at his sister whenever winter settled in. The little boy who would often end up chasing his dog Cerberus down the street every time the black lab managed to slip through their front door.

"It's hard for me to smile." He justifies in a low tone.

I look at him doubtfully. I know Nico has been through hell, but that doesn't mean he can't let loose every once in a while. It doesn't mean he can't actually enjoy life.

"Nico, I hate seeing you unhappy." My eyes continued to linger on his face, watching as his lips part, as his eyes flutter shut. With a groan Nico pulled back away from me, fingers clinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

"Please. Can we change the subject?" Nico labored out peevishly.

With a faint sigh, I agreed and Nico picked up on our last conversation without missing a beat, "So, are we done here? Are we heading home now? What?"

Glancing over at him I realize how bothered he is by that thought. He definitely doesn't want to go home. His eyes flicker with a special fear that I can't even comprehend. I know the thought of being persecuted by someone you love is tough. That's happen to me more times than I can count. It's even worse when Gabe just happens to jump in when my mother is giving me a lecture. But Nico is different. His father has a lot more going on than my mother does. Of course, we worry about money, my mother's job, my schoolwork: The usual. Nico's family, on the other hand, has a lot more piled on to their plate- things that I couldn't imagine happening in my family.

"Well….We don't have to." I started hesitantly. The idea rolling in my head is something that I don't usually do, but I just can't deny Nico. "How about we do a twenty dollar date?"

"A what?" Nico looks like someone had hit him upside the head. I know the word date must have tripped him up.

"See it's this thing that me and Annabeth always do. I would get five dollars, give her the other fifteen, and then I would go buy a cheap movie and she would go get fast food or something. We usually go over to my house to watch the movie and eat. It's just a cheap little thing we do. Better than going to someplace expensive and eating." I explain. His face registers the fact that he is not as easy going with this.

"So it's pretty much a date at home for less money?"

"Correct." I approve lightly, hoping he wouldn't actually hear me. The dull tone suggests that he is not very interested in my plan. I wait anxiously as he plays this over in his head, speculating whether or not he would actually do this.

"Sure, why not? I mean it's better than me going home and getting screamed at."

"Fantastic!" I choke, attempting to keep my voice down. I don't want to seem to enthusiastic.

Nico simply pinches the bridge of his nose once again, not liking my peppy attitude or the way I was presenting fingers linger there a moment as I watch him closely. He's utterly and unequivocally adorable. Leaning back to look at him fully, I simply stare. Letting go of his nose, Nico takes a swift glance at me, a questioning look coming to his face as he wondered.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I could hear the blush in his voice.

"I don't know." I clarified without thinking a thing about it. The boy beside me shakes his head.

"Are we going to do your little date thing or not?" Nico sputtered, changing the topic abruptly.

"Alright." I stated with a self-satisfied smile. The fact that he called it a date made my heart flutter and melt.

Taking out my wallet I shuffle around for a five, deciding that Nico should go get a movie. It pretty convenient that there are actually places that sell good movies for a cheap price. The book store around the corner has a entire wall of movies for dirt cheap bucks and it sure beats going to the theaters. Nico pulls the bill from between my fingers and stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans. He gives an almost quaint smile as we look back at each other. Determining that we'll meet back up at the entrance to A Slice of Old Italy within the hour, me and Nico part ways. Glancing back at him as he walks down the sidewalk, looking so small compared to everything else, I feel warm all over. At least he seemed happy when we parted. Turning around slowly, making sure Nico has disappeared from view, I take off at a sprint in the other direction. I want to get back to him as soon as possible.

My steps are jagged, decisive, and quick as I jog down the sidewalk. It's strange not having Nico walk with me. Although he's quiet most of the time and kind of depressing at others, I don't like having him not at my side. At least I don't have to walk far to get to the restaurant of my choice. I'm surprised Nico gave me a chance to go where ever I wanted and order him whatever I saw was best. I kind of have to smile at the fact that Nico just doesn't care what I do. It seems he's either really hungry and doesn't give a fuck or he really wants to get to my place to watch that movie. I hope it's the second theory.

The Golden Dragon (such a stereotypical name) is a nice restaurant, one that gives you that kind of homey, delicious feeling. And it also has cheap food. And quick serves.

Pulling open the door, the metal bell above my head clinging gleefully, I stepped in the restaurant, listening as my feet clinked on the tile flooring. Red and black squares line underneath my feet. The entire room was bathed in a golden light, streaming from the light fixtures that latched to the roof. Every inch of the place was slathered in a sort of glittered sheen. A large fish tank lay dead center in the room, holding a bunch of brightly colored creatures that I could even place their species.

Stepping up the aisle and towards the counter I was lucky to find that there was no line. In fact, the woman almost instantly waited on me.

"Hello" The girl was dressed in a flower pattered red dress, one that draped down to her feet and entangled her legs. Long locks of hair dripped down her shoulders like shiny oil, "May I help you?"

I ordered two boxes of Sesame Chicken, two cans of soda, and two sets of Wontons. In the end it was a little over fifteen dollars make our date cost more around the price of twenty two dollars and forty three cents. Oh well. I guess it could still be considered a twenty dollar date as long as I didn't tell Nico that I over paid. Handing the woman behind the counter my money, the young girl giving me a quaint smile, I leaned back against the table and waited. Usually this place takes anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes to get your order filled. Hopefully Nico won't have to wait on me for too long.

The thought continued to roll around my head as I speculated whether or not the boy would have to sit alone for quite some time. My thoughts are cut short as someone comes up behind my, forcing me around with one hand. The young girl in front of me takes my breath away for a moment. So beautiful and perfect, Annabeth stands there with a breezy smile blessing her face.

My girlfriend seems to come out of nowhere, but I'm not complaining, although my stomach does feel twisted with sickness as Nico once again pops into my mind. I feel like I'm doing him wrong.

"Percy! What are you doing here?" Annabeth gushed as she wrapped her arms around my stomach. I felt like she was squeezing me tight enough to turn my bones into mush. I hugged her back, although there was a lot less zeal on my part.

"You know. Just getting some food before heading home." I assured. I don't know why I didn't speak honestly, but I decided it was in my best interest to leave Nico out of the equation for the moment being.

"Me and my step mom decided to get something to eat before heading home too. She always insists that we go out to eat after she takes me to doctor's appointments and things like that. It's supposed to be a bonding experience." Annabeth adds extra sarcasm to that last statement. I can't help but scoff at that last bit of humor in her sentence. Glancing over at her step-mother I saw how bored she was with the whole scene, however, she did stand up and walk towards.

Mrs. Chase was a pretty woman although her attitude was kind of lacking. The Asian lady was tall and slim, red highlighted dark hair hanging at the nap of her neck in a bun. High eyebrows rose darkly over almond shaped eyes. Iris of her eyes was dark brown, seeming as smooth as chocolate and dark as thunder. She was dressed like the typical stay at home mom; dark wash jeans, a purposely faded button up and down blue blouse, and knee high brown boots. It's expected, honest, considering she had two elementary aged children. Curling a single lock of lose hair around her manicured nails, Mrs. Chase gave a snort of indifference. She had never liked me and now was no different. She acted as though she had been ill fated having to stand here and talk to me.

"Hello Percy." She replied absently, taking her cell phone out of her pocket. Mrs. Chase couldn't dare leave her IPhone at home. She texts more than me and Annabeth combined.

Annabeth frowned at her step-mother before bringing her attention back to me.

"How did you doctor's appointment go?" I questioned off handedly. She looked back at me with a faint smile before replying.

"Everything about me seems to be in order. As fit as a fiddle." She retorted in a voice that sounded oddly superhero-ish. It was deep and heroic although the sound didn't fit right with her body or pretty face. Placing her hand over her heart, Annabeth grinned so brightly I thought she might light up the room like a supernova.

"At least you're feeling alright." I gave her a faded smile. To be honest, I feel pretty weak at this point. My day has been pretty booked up and I know I'm running out of juice. Give me another hour or two and I'll be down for the count.

"Rough day?" She ask sympathetically. I nodded with self-pity. With everything going on, I do feel like it's been rough, especially with all Nico's problems. And with all my confused feelings. I don't know what caused it or why it happened so quickly, but I am starting to fall in love with him. That's undeniable. But how I'll deal with it, I don't have the slightest clue. Annabeth makes everything so much harder as well.

"I'm so sorr…" Annabeth started before being cut off.

"Annabeth, let's go. Your father just texted me. He said if we don't get home soon then we won't get to see him before he leaves." Mrs. Chase called as she sashayed over to the door. Annabeth made a sound that was full of stubbornness and aggravation, although she did not speak ill tongued. Instead she just looked back at me with a sorry smile.

"See you tomorrow. You know, at school and all." I said awkwardly. For some reason my tongue refused to work proper. I couldn't form my words into an actual intelligent sentence. Annabeth cocked her head to the side slightly, looking curious and confused, before brushing off what she thought she heard. Immediately, I masked my own nervousness with a calm shade of cheerfulness.

"Okay," Annabeth accepted, toying with a strand of my hair as she backed up, "See you tomorrow."

"I'll call you tonight." I promised although I knew I would never dial that number. If Nico decided to stay at my house for a movie then I wouldn't at least, "We can go somewhere tomorrow."

"Yeah and you can take me on a date while I'm all fancied up." Annabeth murmured with a cheekily smile playing against those pale coral lips.

Looking at Annabeth, I realize now how pampered and plucked she is. Finally, the thought registers in my mind that she went to a doctor's appointment with her step-mother, which also means a spa day. Its sounds childish and unneeded, but the woman forced Annabeth to do it unwillingly. Of course, who would want to have their hair cut off, wax poured on them, oily creams dumped on you. It's not the most soothing day you could have. Once Annabeth gave me a complete run down of what she does at the spa- or what her mother made here do at the spa. First Annabeth went on about the facial, then the manicure- full with massage, nail polish, and nail reshaping-, pedicure, leg waxing, arm waxing, tinting for eyelashes and brows, and highlights. Personally to me it sounds more like a form of torture rather than relaxing. Actually I think it's more like torture for your wallet. According to Annabeth the entire day would cost her step-mother a total of three hundred and thirty five dollars. Talk about wasting money, but I guess Annabeth's family has a lot to waste.

The girl looked up at me with pleading eyes as her mother began to lead her out of the restaurant. She whispered to me as she was pulled down the aisle to the exit door, "See you Percy. You're the best boyfriend ever." With a shy look on her face Annabeth broke away from her mother, coming up to me and jumping briskly. A kiss slammed into my lips unexpectedly. It was bitter, but delicious at the same time. Kissing her was slightly flat, but still full of passion, at least on her end. I could feel that she was cackling with enthusiasm over this kiss, but it was defiantly off to me. It felt wrong.

Tilting my head to the side, allowing the kiss to continue without pressing it forward, I didn't bother closing my eyes. Instead I wandered blankly around the restaurant with my eyes. And Nico looked directly back at me, eyes just as wide as mine. I couldn't breathe.

He stood silently in the doorway of the restaurant, a plastic bag hanging loosely at his waist. He's form was completely slack. There was something in his face, in his eyes. Something that was completely and utterly hurt. Without a moment of hesitation, Nico closed the restaurant door and crawled back out into the street, slow and sluggish like a wounded creature. Even through the glass window I saw him walking away, not daring to look back.

Annabeth broke the kiss softly before whispering once more, cupping my face with her hands, "You are the best boyfriend in the world."

"Annabeth!" Her step-mother called demanding, pointing towards the door with one of her French tipped finger nails. Annabeth quickly obliged, although there was a sigh hanging between her lips. The forlorn look was overwhelming, but right now all I cared about was getting back to Nico. I couldn't let him get hurt again.

"You're the best girlfriend ever." I replied back to her as she stepped out the door with her step-mother, doing as I always did. I tried my best to act normal even though my insides are on fire.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Nico's POV <strong>  
><strong>August 16, 6:23 p.m.<strong>

All I want to do at this point is run home, ignore my father, change into a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, crawl under the comforter of my bed, and reread The Great Gatsby for the millionth time. Pillows and tales of sorrowful love may be exactly what I need for my own aching heart. Oh, how ignorant the thought of consequence less bliss is. It's all wishful thinking on my part, but one can dream, can't they?

At least if I was home I could enjoy a hellish lecture from my father while wallowing in my own self-pity and embarrassment. The little scene that I preformed at the restaurant was definitely a kick to the crotch. Who knew I could be such an over emotional bastard? What with all my slamming restaurant doors and storming down the sidewalk and pushing people out of the way. My next action is subconscious, one that I don't intend, but it just happens: I shove a man dressed in suit pants and a tie out of my way. He seems startled, but I that look is almost completely demolished as he meets up with a woman on the curb, sharing a kiss and hug before strolling on together. Sigh. The universe loves to give all us lonely fellows a reminder that we don't have relationships. Double sigh.

I'm about to cry.

I know I'm overreacting and I have nothing to be upset about, but suddenly I feel like someone has drove a knife through my chest and that someone is Percy Jackson

The plastic bag hanging around my wrist seems to weigh a ton and my feet are even heavier. Every inch of my body feels like it's made out of pudding, causing me to have a hard time moving at all. I try my best to get a grapple on my emotions before I lose control completely, however, it's too late. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, blurring the lines of my vision. Shaking my head, being sure to keep out of the way of the few people straggling down the sidewalk, I duck down onto the steps of a clothing store. Sitting beneath a hand written 'Help Wanted' sign I wipe my cheeks jaggedly. I hate that this hurts so much.

Percy has always been a part of my life, ever since I was little, and all that's come from me knowing him is pain. I hate to admit it, but the only reason it hurts is because I love him. Or I thought I did. I came to term with that when I was younger. Even though I won't say it out loud, I loved Percy Jackson when I was younger. And I thought I got over it, but I guess that was just wishful thinking.

Taking a deep breath, forcing my hands over my eyes once more to rid myself of the tears, I stood up and glanced around. The bus stop down the road calls to me. Wobbling shakily on my feet I walk briskly down the street, hoping no one will see me or how close I am to tears once more. It takes me a total of two minutes to make my way down to the bus stop and I sit down with a clank. The poles of the bench are rickety and rattled with each move I made. The awning overhead gave a sigh as the wind brushed through its fabric. Glancing up and down the street I catch of glimpse of a young woman hurrying around the corner. She's the last person on the sidewalk and once she leave I am left in silence. The only sound is the low rubble of automobiles that trek lazily down the street. Checking the bus schedule that is framed on the awning, I realize I have seven more minutes until the bus will arrive. I simple wait with my head down. Suddenly, fear swells in my veins as noise strikes my ears.

I swivel around as footsteps strike the hard packed concrete. It's a sound that echoes through the now lonely street like a siren. At first, it startles me, spinning a web of fear through my veins and causing my movements to be hesitant. If I've learned anything from all those horror movies I have stacked on my shelf it's that whenever you're alone and its night time you're bound to be stabbed. Or decapitated. Or choked to death. Either way, those characters never last long and often end up the first blood shed of the film. Those are always the best scenes.

But in reality there are hardly ever murders lurking beyond the street lamp's circle. You rarely find those men in masks holding a knife waiting for you in the alley way.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" The question doesn't startle me per say, but it's not what I expected. Percy steps forward and under the awning of the bus stop, looking incredulous and confused. His sweet eyes were washed with sadness and for a moment I am unable to speak. He seems so heartbroken, so melancholy as he holds those small boxes of Chinese food under both his arms. The take-out boxes are steaming with heat and the fine aroma pierces the air, causing my stomach to rumble, however, that's the least of my worries.

"I….I'm…," The words stumble from my lips as he continues to stare at me, more disordered than ever.

"I mean I thought we were going to meet up outside of the restaurant, you with the movie and me with the food, and then go home and enjoy what's left of the day. What happened?" Percy's words hold a sense of attentiveness and concern as he moves towards me, sitting down next to me so close that our legs and thighs are pressed together. From the way he speaks it seems as though he did not see me at the restaurant. I know better. Our eyes locked. Speaking of the restaurant, the food box are dropped to the pavement softly, now being forgotten by me and him alike.

The other boy is so close to me- so close that his own body heat sends a striking wave of pleasure through me. To me, the small shift of temperature is like someone pouring molten lava in my veins. It's so warm, so comforting, yet so dangerous at the same time. And with his fiery breath coating my face, my cheek, so gently- well, it's nearly impossible to function.

The thought of Percy is intoxicating to me.

"I'm sorry. I just…. I got back a lot earlier than you did so I figured why not go over to the Chinese restaurant. When I did I saw you and…."

"Me and Annabeth." His voice is flat as the reply streams out. The look in his eyes is something caught between a burning hatred and guilt. It's an unexplainable mixture, one that I wouldn't even associate with his girlfriend, but there it is. Only coming out with the mention of her name.

"Yeah." Is all I can muster as he tilts his head closer to my own.

"Damn it." The harshness of that whisper sends a chill through my spine, his complete anger registering in my mind so quickly it makes my head spin. Looking back upon the pale face of Percy I see the emotion in his expression. His lips are pursed in hidden aggravation, mouth forming a tight line, color as dull as ditchwater. Eyes are cast in a deep hue, becoming darker than usual. A deep huff of breath exhales from his lips as more words come whimpering out, "I was planning on meeting you, but once we struck up a conversation Annabeth just keep going and going."

"I figured you would just want to stay there with her. I mean," There is pause within my words, one that I didn't intend to add, "I'm just so use to being forgotten by others that I figured you would do the same. Especially if Annabeth Chase is involved. She's pretty great."

"And so are you."

Immediately my eyes flicker up to Percy, watching as an apparent blush coats his cheeks. Eyes are hazed with embarrassment as he refuses to looks up. His childish notion about the compliment is what makes it so unbelievable. Say something nice to someone else is a normal occurrence, but his reaction is heartfelt, showing the depth of the meaning behind the words.

Still slightly dumbfounded by what he said to me, the words that I try to speak become garbled and I choke on them.

"Tha-ank you." I finally muster.

"Welcome." He states simply, trying his best to act cool although his cheeks still blaze.

With that we fall back into silence. Both of us stare out into the darkness, stealing glances at each other when we believe no one is looking.

"I hope we can just forget the whole Annabeth thing." Percy twirled the words over his tongue absently. I stared for a moment before the boy piped up once more, "It's so quiet."

"Kind of depressing isn't it?" I question, my ever present frown holding tight. I've learned over the years that if you frown all the time no one ever asks you what's wrong. Percy, on the other hand, was a lot more vigilant than I assumed, and he sees much more in the expression than I would have ever believed.

"Why does it bother you so much that you saw me with Annabeth? Is there something else there? I mean do you…like...me…...," The question takes me aback for a moment, even after he said we should forget it. The shallow bastard. He must assume that I'm obsessed with him or something. Shaking my head deeply, I clench my teeth. A pit of anger begins to boil in my stomach, causing me to yearn for repercussions. Embarrassment floods my form, almost as though I had been caught in a vial act. Perhaps I could do something to make him feel the same way I did. The thought grips my mind with an iron hold and the taste of revenge tings bitterly at the back of my throat. Standing up slow and deliberate, I turn to face the boy with a look of disbelief, hands resting on hips for empathizes.

"You must think very highly of yourself, Percy. Of course, every person who wants to be friends with your shallow ass wants to fuck you as well." I know that last part was over exaggerated, but I don't mind. In fact, the reaction that plays out is more than satisfying. Percy's cheeks flare up with a hateful blush. His hands clinch tightly until the flesh bleeds stark white. Every inch of his expression reads a mirror of my own embarrassment and I relish in it. It feels good to have at least a little bit of power over him for once.

"Shut the fuck up, Nico." The sudden surge of fear and panic in his voice makes me perk up. I looked at him through narrowed eyes, analyzing the truth behind the words. He's scared. Of something I said. The confusion is kind of startling. What did I do to make him act like that?

"You're such a fucking prick." I growled out.

"You the one being an asshole." He murmurs under his breath, swooping his hair over to the side with one hand. I don't want to admit it, but I was hoping this little reunion would led to us actually being nice to each other again. I miss that. However, I'm good at holding grudges. I know this isn't his fault, that Annabeth is his girlfriend and it's not my right to get mad over that, but I am. I'm hurting over it. I don't know what I expected from this, but I did want something to happen today. Something good. Something more than good. I just wanted to feel alright again.

Slumping back to the bench, I hang my head down, staring at the ground. All I want to do is cry. I just want to sit here and sob. But I won't. There's no way in hell that I'm going to start bawling in front of Percy- not again.

I don't know how long we sit there- moments, seconds, minutes, hours- but it feels like an eternity. And I only look up when I hear the bus pull up with a lurch and groan of protest. A hydraulic wheeze exhales from the machine as the door swings open. Before I can even stand Percy forces his way in front of me and enters the doors in one swift motion. As he pass me I get one quick glimpse of his face. His lips are set in a hard, thin line. Eyes bubble with an unexplainable anger and something else that I can't really place. It's clear that he is utterly pissed with me.

Stepping up behind him, making sure to keep my distance, I wait as he pays bus fare for both of us. I'll have to thank him later- that is, if he decides to talk to me.

Percy walks briskly to the back of the bus, taking his seat beside the window, dropping the take out boxes to the seat, and refusing to lift his head afterwards. The thought wanes on me whether or not I should try to sit with him. Eventually I decide the best course of action would be to sit as far to the other side as possible. Taking a seat absentmindedly I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. That seems to have become a subconscious action on my part. Maybe I developed that attribute after seeing my sister do it for so long. Whenever Bianca would get aggravated or annoyed or embarrassed, she would simple clutch the bridge of her nose and look down. People use to say that we looked alike and now I guess I'm starting to act like here too. I hope I am. She was always the person I looked up to.

Running a frazzled hand through my hair I glanced back up.

Across from me on the opposite bus seat is Percy and for a moment I can't contain my thoughts- the thought that he is the hands down, best friend I've had in about nine years. He may be odd and out there and he hasn't made the wisest decisions (primarily with what happened between us), but he's here now and that's all that matters. And I may have just lost him. Me and my fucking jack ass attitude may have just killed any chance I have of actually being friend with him.

Loping my head to the side disappointedly, looking through the hazy window pane with the faint remembrances of a frown, I turn my attention away from Percy and out to the world beyond the glass. Forehead against the sheet. Cheek forced against the cold. Lips breathing out warm air and breaking up the coat of steam on the surface. Just beyond my reach out on the street corner, framed by an awning and string of glittered lights, is The White Lilly.

Opposed to A Slice of Old Italy, The White Lilly is an upstanding restaurant, one where they wouldn't even let you through the threshold unless you're wearing a suit and tie. That sort of place isn't my cup of tea and I'm sure I wouldn't be theirs either. Me with my ripped up jeans and band tees. My old beat up, mud stained pair of Converse. The bright red wrist watch clamped onto my skin, the strap nearly tore in half and frame busted. Yeah, they wouldn't let me walk within three feet of that place.

Absent mindedly, I twirl my fingers against the cold glass, watching as thin lines break the surface. Smiling curtly I continue to toy with the steam, much like a child would against the windshield of his mother's car. Within a split second, I begin to write. With a childlike innocence all my own, I write phrases like hello, hi, what's up, see you later, how's it going. Finally, I begin to form the letters of my name.

Single letters begin to piece together to form my name. The N, the i, the c, the o. Then the d and the next i. However, I don't get a chance to write my last name. Percy does. His fingers are curled around my own as the a begins to take shape. His hand gently guides my own in a rhythmic dance as he continues to paste the letter in beautiful, flowing cursive that is so different from my print. Once the word has been copy down, Percy lets go and we both admire our work. It takes me a moment to peel my eyes away from the looping name and focus them in on him.

"Why did you all of the sudden decide to move over here?" I question lightly, feeling his body brush my own as his chest rises and falls.

"I moved over here because...," The deep pause keeps me anticipating. He seems sheepish of his words, all anger and hate replaced by embarrassment and regret, "I wanted to be close to you so bad."

"What do you…?" My words are cut off as our eyes meet. He's undeniable beautiful and within this moment every thought from my childhood rips through my brain like a hurricane. Every day when I lacked the courage to talk to him. Every day when I would gawk at him. The day I cursed when I found out he had a girlfriend. The day I was rejected. When I realized he was cruel. When I felt my heart break. When I felt the tears fall. I felt hopeless. I felt broken. I realized how bad I wanted him. I realized I liked him.

I thought I loved him. My attachment to him had always been there, ever since I was seven years old, but the actual feelings were lacking until that day. And then everything exploded within me.

Remembering that day four years ago makes my breath come out in choppy, broken streams. A tremble courses my form and the whimper that escapes my lips is nearly inaudible, "I think I'm going to faint."

The look on Percy's face is utter horrification," Calm down. Please. I don't want to see you hurt anymore. Just calm down. I'm sorry alright. I was just being a jackass earlier and so were you. We shouldn't have been fighting and…I'm just sorry. I'm just really confused right now."

"About what?" I ask through my haze of panic. My answer comes all too quickly. A soft hand clamps down on face, cupping my cheek as the whimpers transform into deep coursing gasps. My entire form is racked with the indescribable panic. The fear. The memories. I hate feeling like this. I hate these emotions. I hate beating myself up day after day after day. Most of all, I hate him. With every fiber of my being I was disgusted with him.

"Nico," Percy pauses for a moment, "I'm confused about you. About how you make me feel."

His voice brings my face upwards, allowing our eyes to meet. The depth of his own pain is evident. Eyes are forced downwards in deep sorrow. And somewhere in that confused, hazy moment our hands find each other. Holding his hand was like holding something transparent. Something see through. Something that wasn't there, but was still alive. It's the feeling that I've always yearned for and the feeling I've always despised with the darkest section of my heart. And this is where my jerking breath stops. This is where my heart breaks.

I freeze as his hands glide and pushes back my hair, fingertips stinging my cheek, my chin, my forehead. And then he freezes as well. His hands burn holes through my skin, the warmth becoming disorienting. I can't swallow the fact that he was willing to be so close. Jerking my head to the left I break the contact, barely catching a glimpse of the bus driver who was enjoying the scandalous scene through the review mirror.

"Looks like we got a perv for a bus driver." My bitter words hold a hint of humor as the man driving our bus once again brings his eyes to the road.

"Shut up." Percy murmurs, although the speech isn't harsh. In fact it's passive, sounding more of a suggestion than a demand.

Turning towards him, a question hanging loosely upon my lips, all words faltered. It all hits me like a ton of bricks. The warmth against my side, his hips slamming into my own, his fingers dancing along my thighs and grabbing hold, his breath on my face: It swarms me like a like a lion attacking a mouse. It kills me. For a second his dark eyes find mine, and he's completely silent. He leans forward until his cheek presses again my own. Until our breath mingles and I can practically taste him.

"I might be falling in love with you." Percy trembles uncoordinatedly as he brushed his finger up my leg and to my side, warm breath tickling my face as he speaks. I can't move. I am utterly froze as he adds, "I just need to tell you that."

And then his lips brush my own, parting slightly as he gives me an achingly sweet kiss. And it's painful. It's the most painful thing that I have ever felt.


End file.
